At the End of Each Day
by MorganD
Summary: At the end of each day, they go home and talk. Except for the days when they don't. My own spin on the "lady chats over warm milk". Bro Finn-Kurt, plus canonical pairings  Kurt/Blaine, Finn/Rachel, Finn/Quinn, Burt/Carole, brief Blaine/Rachel, etc.
1. Of Parties and Betrayals

**Warnings:** Each chapter corresponds to an episode of the show, starting with 2.09 – _Special Education_. Total number of chapters is undetermined at this moment, since in theory I could go on writing this for as long as Finn and Kurt live in the same house. I just don't know if I'll want to.**  
>Thanks:<strong> To my beta, the lovely Teka Lynn. I don't know what I'd do without her.

**A/N:** The show is somewhat unclear about several details, so, for the sake of clarity: in the setting of this story, the Hudsons moved back in with the Hummels right after Burt and Carole's wedding. Also, Kurt never boarded at Dalton. So please imagine that Kurt's line to Rachel in _Special Education_, "So how's Finn? I feel bad, I haven't spoken to him since the wedding" actually was "So how are things going with you and Finn? I feel bad, I haven't had an opportunity to have an actual conversation with him since the wedding, nothing more meaningful than good-morning, pass-the-salt, and good-night, even though we're living in the same house and sharing a room."

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Of Parties and Betrayals<strong>

**1.**

"I thought you might be interested in a hot drink."

Finn stopped playing on his makeshift drums — actually three hardcover books, a shoe box and a bottle of aftershave displayed on his bed — and looked up to see Kurt coming down the stairs into their shared room in the basement, still in uniform, his hair just slightly unkempt, one steaming mug in each hand. "You're only getting home now? Wow. Those prep boys must party hard!"

Kurt snorted. "That's one way of putting it. I assume Mr. Schuester took the New Directions to celebrate at Breadstix?"

"Nah, I think he was scared that we'd all start fighting again and didn't want us to make a scene or something. So we went to his place and ordered lots and lots of pizza."

"Fighting?" Kurt handed him one of the mugs. "Careful, might be too hot."

Finn frowned at the murky liquid inside the mug. "What's this?"

"Green tea. It's good for lowering cholesterol, and helps to prevent cancer and acne."

"Oh." Finn still kept scowling at it, though.

"So, fighting, you said?" Kurt looked highy curious, but he made his way to the opposite side of the bedroom. "Did I have anything to do with that?"

"You? Why?"

"I may have let it slip to Rachel that she wasn't the first to find out about your brief liaison with Santana," Kurt murmured, not facing Finn.

"Oh. That." Finn sighed. "Yeah, it kinda had something to do with it."

"I'm so sorry, Finn. In my defense, I had no idea it was a secret. I heard it from six different sources before joining the Cheerios and realizing everyone there knew about it already. I mean, dating a younger guy was one of Coach Sylvester's assignments, so bragging about it was pretty much implied." He sat down on the oval chair, a pensive look on his face. "I guess Rachel really doesn't talk to that many people if she still didn't know. Anyway. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, dude. I guess I shouldn't have lied to her in the first place. I just didn't want to hurt her feelings, you know?" Finn arched an eyebrow. "Because, you know, she gets really scary when she's hurt and angry. Like, in a witch from _Sleeping Beauty_ kind of way."

Kurt tilted his head to one side. "I dare say Maleficent plays her wrath with considerably more gravitas, but on the other hand, her main grievance and the reason why she decided to resort to murder was that she wasn't invited to a baby shower, so... yeah."

Finn shrugged. "Anyway, it wasn't just Rachel. There was some drama going on with Brittany, Artie, Mike and Tina too... and Mercedes was super bitter about not getting a solo again... We were all at each other's throats before going onstage, until Mr. Schue came in and told us to get a grip and focus on the performance." Finn gazed sadly into his mug. "He was so disappointed in us."

"For whatever is worth, watching you guys perform, I'd never have guessed there was trouble brewing under the surface. Everyone's show face was _impeccable_. Well, Rachel was staring at you with oh-so-dramatic eyes, but that's hardly new. And Mr. Schue was sitting right behind Blaine and me, and he was clearly, _loudly_ happy with you all by the end of your first number."

Finn's lips curved in a smile. "Yeah. Later at the party he said how proud he was that we pulled through. And super happy because this was the first time he was actually there to see us win a competition."

"So no one made a scene at the party after all?"

"Nope. Artie and Brittany made up, Tina and Mike too, Mercedes was happy that we won and that you didn't have to lose for that to happen... and I think Rachel and I will be okay. So we basically ate, like, a ton of pizza, and sang all the group numbers we've ever done since _Don't Stop Believin'_, until Mr. Schue's neighbor started banging on the wall." Finn sent Kurt a tense look. "Except for, like, _Bad Romance_ and _Time Warp_, you know, songs you had solo parts in? No one wanted to be the one to replace you. Not even Rachel."

"Fortunately for you guys, I can count the songs in that category on only one hand," said Kurt acidly.

"What about you, how did the Warblers celebrate our tie? Are you hung over? Is that why you're drinking tea?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I drink a cup of green tea every day." He seemed a little annoyed that his stepbrother hadn't noticed that fact yet. "And no, there was no consumption of alcoholic beverages. Although I've been told..." Kurt's tone suddenly turned mockingly professorial. "...that red wine was briefly part of the celebratory traditions, between the end of Prohibition and 1935, when drinking was rendered illegal for kids under 18 in Ohio."

Finn looked confused. "The Warblers have a tradition for celebrating ties at Sectionals?"

"I think it's more like a general Dalton-Academy-Is-Ever-Victorious celebratory tradition. But don't quote me on that. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Dalton had specific traditions for each kind of total or partial victory a school can possibly obtain. There might be a five-volume manual on Dalton parties only. Which Wes probably knows by heart. I'd ask him, but I'm too afraid he'd quote it for me, start to finish."

Finn looked even more confused.

"We went back to school," said Kurt, "where we were received by the headmaster, members of the school board and a group of alumni. There were speeches. We didn't have a trophy to add to the trophy room, because Mr. Schue was faster and took it away, but we had a certificate from the state show choir committee stating that we did win Midwestern Ohio Sectionals 2011, and this certificate was solemnly placed inside this big trophy case. David said the committee should send us our own trophy in a couple of days. Hopefully there won't be more speeches then."

"That doesn't sound like fun."

"Then we were invited into the cafeteria, where there was a feast waiting for us. And I do mean 'feast'. A four-course meal: butternut squash soup, duck-breast salad, braised lamb with mint sauce, and blueberry cheesecake."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Blaine was right. The Warblers are like rock stars at Dalton." Kurt sipped his tea gingerly. "I've been told to expect an enthusiastic welcome from the other students Monday morning."

"Slushies?"

"Confetti."

"Man, that's like _Twilight Zone_."

"It's certainly a different experience. And after the headmaster left, we went back outside and formed a circle around the fountain in the front garden. There we sang the school anthem in six-part harmony. All twenty-four stanzas of it."

"Does McKinley even _have_ an anthem?"

Kurt smirked, and raised his voice into a triumphant march.

_._

_O McKinley High, McKinley!  
>We're the pride of great Ohio,<br>Work so hard and smile so thinly.  
>We learn the rules to go by, oh,<br>Strive to reach minimum standards.  
>Yay! McKinley crushed the Spaniards!<em>

.

"Does 'Spaniards' really rhyme with 'standards'?" asked Finn.

"The least of its flaws."

"Is that why it took you so long to come back? Because their school song is super long?"

"Well, that, and also the celebration didn't end with the singing. After that, per tradition... we removed our coats, our blazers and our ties..."

"Were you still in the garden?"

"Yes."

"But it's December."

"That fact didn't go unnoticed, I assure you." Kurt breathed in the hot steam coming from his mug, shivering a little.

"But that was all, right? You guys didn't go naked or anything weird like that, right?"

"No on the naked, yes on the weird."

Finn looked really worried now. "Kurt?"

Kurt closed his eyes tightly, his lips contorting in a disgusted grimace. "We dunked our heads into the water in the fountain."

"But... it's December!"

"Indeed it is. And the water was freezing. And not exactly clean."

Finn blinked. "You let them dip your head in dirty water? You?"

"Well... yes."

"You sure there wasn't something weird in the water?" Suddenly Finn's eyes widened like saucers. "Oh man, it was a brainwashing fountain! That's what makes the Warblers sing and dance and walk and even dress like they're one single person! That water turns kids into singing zombies! And now they've got you!"

Kurt's eyebrows arched bemusedly. "Seriously, Finn. Do I look like a zombie to you?"

Finn kept staring at Kurt, as if bracing himself for the moment his stepbrother would jump on him, all teeth and nails, and try to suck Finn's brains out through his ears.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just drink your tea, Finn."

"Oh my God, is that what this is?" Finn shrieked, stretching his arms to keep the mug away from his face. "Is that why it's green? Because it's zombiefying water from the Dalton fountain, and you're trying to turn me into one of them too?"

"Finn, for the love..." Kurt shook his head, and took a deep, calming breath. "Fine, let's play this game. If the Dalton fountain turned people into zombies, wouldn't the Warblers have turned me into one _before _Sectionals?"

"Uh..."

"And wouldn't I then have turned you too before Sectionals, therefore leaving the New Directions one member short?"

"Hmmm..."

"Hey, why even stop there? I could have invited you all for a tea party and, as you said, 'zombiefied' the very last one of you."

"Okay, fine," Finn mumbled. "You have a point."

"Drink your tea. I promise you, it's not poisoned or harmful to you in any way."

"But it's green."

"Yes, Finn, it's green tea," said Kurt patiently.

"Mom always told me I shouldn't eat stuff when they're still green. That I should wait for them to be ripe."

"Is that why you never eat lettuce or broccoli?"

"Well, yes. And because they taste funny when they finally start to get yellow."

Kurt let out a long-suffering sigh. "Just try it, okay? Please?"

Finn bit his lower lip, sniffed the mug, scowled, braced himself, and finally took a tiny, courageous sip. "Bleargh!"

"That coming from the boy who diets on Doritos and Sour Patch Kids." A lock of hair fell over Kurt's eyes, and the boy promptly smoothed it back in place. The result was still a far cry from his usual impeccable coiffure.

"I still can't believe you agreed to stick your head into a dirty fountain."

"Neither can I," said Kurt with a strange laugh.

Finn looked immediately concerned. "Wait. Did they force you...?"

Kurt dismissed the idea with a wave. "No, no, nothing of the sort. They didn't order me to do it either, they didn't even ask. They just did it to themselves."

"And then they kept staring at you, waiting for you to do it too," said Finn knowingly. "That's how Puck gets me to do crazy stuff sometimes."

"Actually, no. I don't think anyone was even looking at me."

"Then why did you do it?"

Kurt shrugged. "They were all having so much fun."

"Fun?"

"They were all running around and shaking their heads like wet dogs, splashing water all around, laughing and jumping and dancing and acting like... like boys! I mean, Wes and Thad were putting on airs and saying the only reason they would even consider playing in the fountain was because that's what some pre-historical group of Warblers did after Dalton won its first ever singing competition... but even they couldn't pretend they weren't having a blast. And there I was, just standing back and watching... and feeling like an idiot. Like an outsider, but mostly like an idiot, because I was the one holding back and making myself an outsider." Kurt leaned back into the chair, folding his legs under him. "And Blaine... he said something to me a couple of days ago... about fitting in. I thought... maybe I should give the whole Dalton experience a fair chance, you know?"

"So you dipped your hair, and your face, in dirty, freezing water. You."

"And as soon as you've gone to bed, I'm going to lock myself in the bathroom for three hours or so, and use every last product in my hair and skin care arsenal to try to undo the damage. And believe me, if by tomorrow I notice that this incident has marred my appearance in any way, by Monday morning there will no longer be a fountain in the front garden of Dalton Academy."

Finn grinned. "Yep! You're you. Definitely not a zombie."

Kurt smiled back. "Anyway. Finally, we went back inside, where there were clean towels waiting for us. Thad ordered us to put the blazers and ties back on, and we gathered in the seniors' common room, where Wes made a surprisingly nice and mercifully short speech. Then, those of us who had performed as Warblers for the first time received this." He pointed to a badge pinned to his blazer's lapel, with the image of a canary and two sixteenth notes.

"Nice!"

"Yeah."

"I guess..." Finn cleared his throat, fighting a sudden huskiness in his voice. "I guess you're really one of them now."

Kurt allowed himself to slump a little in the chair. "I suppose."

The two boys remained silent for a moment, gazing somberly at their mugs.

"It was great seeing you on that stage," said Finn eventually. "You guys were so good. The voices, the rhythm, everything so... together, you know? I wasn't really expecting the Warblers to be that good."

"No? Why not? I told the New Directions they were good after my 'spy mission'."

"Yeah, but you were pissed at us for not using any of your ideas for the boys' mash-up, so, I don't know, you just seemed a little too pleased saying that we sucked in comparison."

"I didn't say you sucked. I merely stated that the Warblers' harmonies were flawless and a lot more complex than those in the New Directions' usual repertoire."

"That's Kurt Hummel for 'you suck'," Finn laughed. "I guess I just expected this year's Sectionals to be just like last year, you know? Then both Haverbrook and Jane Addams felt the need to cheat to be on our level, and still we won. Plus, Mr. Schue spent the last week talking about how the Warblers and the Hipsters were terrible dancers, so I guess I wasn't thinking enough about their voices." He shrugged. "I grew placental."

Kurt suppressed a smile. "I think you mean 'complacent'."

"Yeah, that. But the Warblers totally rocked. And you were amazing."

"Just part of the team," Kurt whispered.

"A winning team. You should be proud."

"I am. And I'm proud of you guys too. Regionals should be veeeeery interesting."

"Yeah."

"Finn?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're not drinking your tea."

"Do I have to?"

Kurt's only response was a glare.

Finn recoiled under his stepbrother's reproaching expression, brought the mug to his lips with a little whimper, and tasted it again. "Guh!"

Kurt was clearly trying not to laugh at Finn's dramatic grimace. "You remind me of that video from YouTube that Mercedes showed me a few months back, _'Babies Eating Lemons for the First Time'_."

Finn coughed. "I saw that. And I totally thought those parents were super mean to make their babies eat lemons just to see them make funny faces." He sent Kurt a meaningful glare of his own.

Kurt giggled, got to his feet and came to stand near Finn's bed with his hand stretched out. "All right, you big baby. Give it back, it was not my intention to torture you."

Finn relinquished the mug with a sigh of relief. "Sorry, dude. It might be good for my bacne and all, but milk is more my thing."

"Milk?"

"Yeah. Warm milk."

"Milk." Kurt seemed a little irked at the idea. "Are you serious?"

"What? It's delicious!"

.

**2.**

The noise sounded like cannons firing inside a silo, but in reality it was just Finn stomping down the stairs with a frightening scowl in his face.

"Jeez, Finn, quiet down, will you?" Kurt hissed. "You're going to wake up Pavarotti."

Finn halted at the landing, staring at his stepbrother in disbelief. "What the hell, dude? You have a guy sleeping in here? In _our_ bedroom?"

Kurt waved frantically for Finn to stop yelling, then pointed at the cage on Kurt's desk, encased in a beige nylon cover. "Pavarotti is a canary, Finn. I told you about him."

Finn frowned. "The Warblers' mascot they made you take care of?"

"Exactly."

"And why the hell is it here?"

"Please, lower your voice, Finn," Kurt whispered.

"No, I'm not lowering my voice! Dammit, Kurt, you promised! Until Burt gets the new house, this is _our_ room, and you said there'd be no more surprise redecorations."

"Pavarotti is a living being, Finn, not a desk lamp."

"Same thing! You can't decide to keep a pet in here and not ask me about it!" Finn dropped his school backpack on the floor and kicked it to a corner. "You just... you never ask me about things! You just go and do it, and I'm supposed to be okay with everything you pull. That's not cool, dude!"

Kurt flinched, hands balling into tight fists. He took a deep breath, stood up taut as a bowstring, and said in a low, hurt tone, "Fine. I'm sorry. I will put him upstairs in the living room. Better yet, I'll sleep in the couch. That way I can watch over him, while you have the bedroom all for yourself and your nasty mood." With that, he started collecting pillows, blankets, and sheets to take upstairs.

"Kurt, don't." Finn huffed. "Our parents will think we were fighting again, and I don't want to upset them."

"Oh, you mean we're _not_ fighting? Well, then I guess I was misled by all your shouting."

Finn closed his eyes, took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. Okay? I had a really, really, really lousy day."

"Well, thank goodness Pavarotti is not a dog, then. You'd probably have kicked him at the door when he tried to greet you."

"Come on, I'd never kick a dog," said Finn self-consciously. "Chairs, sometimes, but never a dog."

Kurt put the bedclothes down. "I'm sorry I didn't consult you about Pavarotti. He's not well, and I'm worried about him, and I was so focused on getting him comfortable that I forgot everything else."

"Wait, is it sick?"

"Not exactly. He's molting."

"But that's normal, right? I mean, I don't know a thing about birds, but..."

"Blaine said it's normal, that he'll be fine in no time and that I shouldn't worry," said Kurt, very carefully smoothing a crease on the cage cover. "But from what I've been reading online, normal would be for him to molt in the summer, when it's warm and the days are longer. Molting out of season apparently means something happened to make him think it's summer. Maybe he's been exposed to too much light or abrupt changes of temperature... That's why I brought him home. To guarantee a stable environment, with proper temperature, away from drafts, and where I can monitor his sleep hours."

Finn gazed at the covered cage with concern. "But he's going to be okay, right?"

"He should be. Yes, absolutely," said Kurt, failing to sound as confident as his words implied.

"My 3rd grade class had a turtle as a pet," said Finn. "Her name was Belinda. Mom would never let me have a pet, so I liked feeding her and stuff. One day, puff, she was gone."

"She died?"

"No, she just disappeared. Puck told the teacher Belinda must have escaped through the air ducts at night, but..." Finn shrugged.

"Say no more," said Kurt dryly. "I don't want to know."

Finn toed off his sneakers and flopped down on his bed with a dramatic huff, hiding his face on a pillow.

"Did you eat?" asked Kurt. "I had dinner with some of the Warblers, and our parents won't be home in a while. I could make you something."

Finn's voice, muffed by the pillow, was barely intelligible."Not hungry."

"You? Not hungry?" Kurt stared at Finn in shock. "Are _you_ ill?"

"No. Just not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just leave me alone, will ya?"

Kurt remained standing where he was, eyeing Finn with growing anxiety. "Finn?"

"What?"

"What happened to make your day 'really, really, really lousy'?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something else, but after a moment he just nodded and sat down at his desk. After another worried glance at his stepbrother, he opened his books to start on his homework.

The silence lasted for about eight minutes.

"Kurt... Do you think Puck is hot?"

"What?" Kurt choked.

Finn rolled over in his bed to lie on his back. "Puck. Do you think he's hot?"

"Uh... well... hmm... why, why are you asking me that?"

"Because he has all those girls and cougars fawning over him, and he definitely thinks he's the sexiest thing that's ever existed... and, I don't know, I wish someone would tell me what's so special about him."

"So you're asking me?"

"Well, you would know, right? What makes a guy hot."

"Finn, there is such a thing as personal taste, ever heard of it? Puck... not really my cup of tea."

"Really," said Finn in a skeptical tone. "So even if he played on your team, you'd not be interested."

Kurt twirled his pen between his fingers, giving the issue some thought. "He has nice arms. But whatever attractive traits he may have are cancelled entirely by his horrible, horrible hair."

"You don't dig the mohawk?" Finn asked with a smirk.

"And I wasn't impressed by his looks when he had his whole head shaved either. I wonder what his hair would look like if he let it grow properly."

"He had curly hair up until 6th grade."

"Really? Do you have pictures?"

"Mom must have a few."

"I'll definitely ask her about them. Too bad I didn't have any in my possession before, when he was still throwing me into dumpsters. It might have been useful as blackmail material." Kurt snorted. "And that's another reason why Puck fails to charm me. His bad-boy attitude is totally lost on me. I like boys who treat me with kindness."

Finn gazed down at his own hands, a guilty look in his eyes. "I used to treat you like crap."

"That's not true, you..." Kurt trailed off, putting the pen down. "Well, maybe it was. I could tell you didn't pride yourself in tormenting me, unlike Puck and the others, and you were occasionally nice to me. Usually when no one else was watching. At the time... I thought it was enough." He shrugged. "Being at Dalton is making me realize I had a very warped understanding of kindness and acceptance."

"So you're saying that you only thought I was hotter than Puck because I held your designer jackets before we tossed you in the dumpster."

Kurt turned around on his seat, looking at Finn in exasperation. "You don't seriously want to have a discussion about the reasons why I think... _thought_ you were hot."

Finn let out a long sigh, staring sadly at the ceiling. "Guess not."

"What's troubling you, Finn? Where's all this coming from?"

Finn's reply barely made it out his mouth through gritted teeth. "Rachel cheated on me with Puck."

Kurt gaped for good half a minute before finding his voice again. "Oh my... Are you kidding? What am I saying, of course you're not kidding. Finn, I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah..."

"I can't... How could this happen? Two days ago you were telling me you and Rachel were patching things up."

"I thought we were. But then I said there should be no more lying between us, and that's when she dropped that bomb on me. She said she wanted to hurt me as much as I hurt her by sleeping with Santana. And she completely forgets the fact that she was with Jesse at the time!"

"Did she actually, you know, sleep with Puck?"

Finn let out a humorless chuckle. "No. Because _Puck_ stopped. Because _he_ felt bad for stealing my girlfriend. _Again_."

Kurt looked horrified. "Gosh, Finn, this is awful. No wonder you're so upset."

"Why do they keep choosing him over me? I know he's smarter than me, but still..."

Kurt got on his feet and started moving towards his stepbrother, but then seemed to think better of it and sat back on the desk chair. "Listen... I think you're looking at this from the wrong perspective. From what you're telling me, and from what I know about what happened with Quinn, neither she nor Rachel went to Puck because they were in love with him, or even because they liked him better than they liked you. They were both upset about something in their lives, and they thought that one moment of foolishness with Puck would make them feel better about themselves. And look how well that went for both of them."

"So what should I do?"

"What do you feel like doing?"

Finn breathed in and out deeply, slowly. "...nothing."

"Then do nothing, I say. For once, this is not your mess to fix. Give it time."

Finn nodded, still staring at the ceiling, and said nothing.

Kurt kept watching him for a few moments, and was about to turn back to his homework when Finn spoke again. "I lied to you."

"When?"

"Saturday, after Sectionals. When I said I liked seeing you perform with the Warblers." Finn sat up on the bed, hugging his knees. "I mean, you guys were awesome. But it sucked too. Because you should've been with us, not them."

"I missed you guys too," Kurt admitted. "It was the first time I didn't feel at home on stage. It was fun, it really was, but... I don't know. I saw you guys in the audience and I felt so, so guilty. Like I was..."

"Cheating on us?"

Kurt winced. "Yes."

"I thought I'd feel betrayed seeing you with a different glee club. I thought I'd have to force myself to applaud the Warblers' performance, you know, be a good sport, like Mr. Schue told us to. But when it started... I just wanted to join you on stage."

Kurt smiled. "Well, I suppose even you could handle _that_ choreography."

"And when it was over, I wanted to take you by the hand and drag you to perform with us. Because that was how it should have been... if I had gotten my head out of my ass in time to stop Karofsky before things got so out of control."

"Oh, Finn..."

"It's so strange seeing you in uniform."

"It's strange _being _in uniform," Kurt agreed. "It's also strange that I don't feel nearly as suffocated by it as I once thought I'd be. I don't know," he murmured, "maybe my 'give it time' advice goes for me too."

Finn nodded, offering him a gloomy half-smile.

Kurt clapped his hands together, and jumped to his feet. "Enough of this somber mood. I'm going upstairs to prepare my tea. Would you like some warm milk?"

Finn grinned, grateful. "Yeah, bro. Thanks."

**###**

**A/N 2:** _'Babies Eating Lemons for the First Time'_: youtube. com/ watch?v=7yHejN1korE


	2. Of Ornaments and Adjustments

**A/N:** I hate messing up with Real Life geography (I hate when Hollywood does it to my country's), but I feel _Glee_ canon really made it inevitable. So for this story, please picture Lima and Westerville as two entirely fictional towns only a 50-minute drive apart from each other.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Of Ornaments and Adjustments<strong>

**1.**

"Finn, what's... _that_... in the living room?"

Finn looked up from his laptop, cringing at Kurt's angry tone of voice. "Uh, couch? TV? Coffee table?"

"I mean that thing that _isn't_ supposed to be in the living room."

"Did I leave my underwear upstairs?"

"Finn!"

"Relax, dude, it's clean. I just got it from the laundry room... and... I don't know why I left it there. Guess I got distracted."

"First, it doesn't matter if it's clean, you still should _never_ leave your underwear lying around. Second, your underwear is right there on my vanity, where it's not supposed to be _either_."

"Oh, there it is. Thanks, Kurt."

"Third, I'm not talking about your underwear. I'm talking about something big, vaguely green and definitely ugly, which is more or less standing by the window."

"Dude, that's a Christmas tree. You're telling me you've never seen a Christmas tree before?"

"That is _not_ a Christmas tree. That is a sad skeleton of a moribund pine with a few remaining leaves that some time long ago might have been green. No respectable seller would dare to offer that thing to a customer."

"It's not that bad! It just needs a few ornaments and some tinsel. And I didn't buy it, I found it on the side of the road on my way from school."

"Is that a thing with you? Some people bring home stray animals, you bring in stray trees?"

"Look, Kurt, I really don't know why you're giving me a hard time about it."

"We already have a Christmas tree, Finn. Actually, we have five. I rotate them every year. There's the tall frosted one, a small pre-lit one, then three colored ones: champagne gold, Brandeis blue, and cranberry copper. Supposedly, this is the year of the pre-lit one, but it's our first Christmas since our families merged, so I thought a small tree would not be appropriate. I'm leaning towards the cranberry copper one. It's my favorite."

Finn looked dismayed. "Wait. Those are all artificial."

"Well, yes! Like I'd want to have a tree dying in my living room, losing color day by day, shedding needles all over the place. Also, artificial trees are fire-retardant, a benefit I'm growing to appreciate more and more now that I see how clumsy you are around the house."

"FYI, I have never in my life set fire to a Christmas tree. Just ask my mom."

"That is indeed remarkable, Finn", said Kurt, deadpan. "Congratulations."

"But you're missing the point. They just smell so good! Especially the Douglas and the balsam. The Fraser is nice too. And the white fir kind of smells like citrus, you know?"

Kurt blinked. "You can name the different species?"

"Of course I can."

"You can't name five state capitals!"

"Well, no, but Christmas tree species actually matter."

"I see," said Kurt with a little smile.

"That's just how Christmas smells, okay? The tree, the ginger cookies, the mulled cider, the burnt turkey..." At Kurt's arched eyebrow, Finn added, "Mom always burns the tips of the wings."

Kurt folded his arms, twitching his lips as he seemed to look for a solution. "Okay, what about a compromise? We get a real tree, but I make sure the turkey isn't burnt."

Finn considered the offer for a moment. "Deal. The wings might be better to eat that way anyway."

"I'm making tea. Want some?"

"Uh..."

"Never mind."

.

**2.**

"Jauchzet, frohlocket."

Finn stopped in the middle of the stairs to the basement, listening to his stepbrother's voice.

"Auf, preiset die Tage," Kurt murmured. Then, louder, "Jauchzet. Frohlocket."

Finn tiptoed the rest of the way into the room. Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by music papers. After a moment, he raised his voice to sing:

.

_"Jauchzet, frohlocket, auf, preiset die Tage.  
><em>_Rühmet, was heute der Höchste getan!"_

.

"Are you conjuring a demon?" Finn whispered, looking around as if expecting something to attack him.

"Finn, have you been watching _Supernatural _again?" asked Kurt without looking up.

"No...?" Finn's tone was far from convincing. "You're chanting in tongues."

"I'm singing in German, that's all."

"I didn't know you spoke German."

"One does not need to speak a language to sing in it. You just need to memorize the phonemes." Kurt finally raised his eyes from the music sheet, and his expression turned to sour as he finally saw his stepbrother standing in the middle of the room. "What exactly are you wearing?"

"What exactly are you singing?"

"The Warblers will be performing Bach's _Christmas Oratorio_, along with the Crawford Country Day's glee club and the Westerville Youth Orchestra. Apparently they do this every year, and it's a total non-issue for them, to the point that _none_ of the Warblers remembered to mention it to me _until this morning_, when Blaine casually asked me if my family would be coming to the concert. So now I have _two weeks_ to learn all this," said Kurt, waving the papers in his hands in frustration.

"Bach, uh? That is really old music, right? Like, before the fifties."

"Yes, Finn, definitely before that. Now, what is that thing you're wearing?"

"Oh, it's New Direction's Christmas costume. We went caroling class by class today. Well, one class. We got booed, and the teacher tossed a shoe at us, so we decided to regroup and rethink our strategy."

"Of course you were booed, dressed like that! What was Mercedes thinking?"

"Actually, it was Rachel who found us the cardigans. Mercedes only suggested the scarves."

"Ah. Now that makes much more sense."

"Has anyone bought milk?"

"Did you check the fridge?"

"Yeah, nothing."

"Then no."

Finn slumped into the oval chair with a disappointed pout.

"There's green tea..." Kurt suggested.

"No, thanks."

.

**3.**

"Are you in trouble with your dad?"

Kurt found Finn sitting on the lowest steps of the basement stairs, waiting for him. "No."

"Dude, I could hear him yelling from here."

"Just a little parental overreacting. Don't worry." Kurt placed his messenger bag on his desk and took off his Dalton jacket.

"Am _I_ in trouble with your dad, then?"

"You? Why?"

"For telling Mr. Schue where to find you."

"Oh, so that was you? I wondered. I mean, the only reason why I was still at Dalton was because of the snow."

"Yeah, Burt told me and Mom that you had called to say you'd wait it out. And then Mr. Schue called me and asked how he could find you, and he sounded kind of desperate."

"Desperate enough to brave the roads when I wouldn't, clearly."

"I don't get why he just didn't call you."

"He did," said Kurt, carefully putting the jacket on a hanger. "But I was studying, and when I saw it was him, I let it go to voicemail. It didn't occur to me that it could be an emergency, not now that I'm not in the New Directions anymore." He moved out of Finn's sight, into the walk-in closet.

"What kind of emergency?" Finn called after him. "Like a fire or a flood?"

"The kind of emergency I actually can help with, Finn. Think about it."

"Oh. Fashion?"

"Christmas shopping. He's got Coach Sylvester in a secret Santa draw, and the gift delivery is scheduled for tomorrow."

Finn winced. "Ouch."

"I know. So I took him to North Hills Mall, and we got her a winter tracksuit."

"A tracksuit. Wow. I'm surprised you didn't go for something more... uh... _more_."

"I learned the hard way last year that you can't change Coach Sylvester. But that doesn't mean there's no room for improvement. I picked this gorgeous taupe tracksuit with dark gold trimmings and fur-lined hood which I'm sure will become her favorite."

Finn smiled. "Well, seems like you totally saved Mr. Schue's ass."

"He seemed to think so. He insisted on buying me dinner as thanks."

"Cool."

"Exactly! You don't see a problem with that, do you?"

"Uh, no. Unless you ate at one of those vegan places, because those are gross, I don't care what Rachel says."

"Well, maybe you could try to explain that to my dad. Not the part about the vegan food. I don't want you giving him more excuses to cheat on his diet. I mean the part about Mr. Schuester."

"Burt doesn't like Mr. Schue?"

Kurt came back to the room wearing powder blue sweatpants and his deep pink 'Sing Your Life' tee shirt. "I fear Dad's had a poor opinion of him since the _Defying Gravity_ debacle. And maybe he thinks Mr. Schue should have done more about the Karofsky situation. I sort of agree with him on both accounts. But this time he was going on and on about..." He drew air quotes with his fingers. "...'the impropriety of a teacher taking a teenage former student out'."

"Wait. Burt thinks Mr. Schue... wants to get into your pants?"

Kurt grimaced. "Crudely put, but yes."

"Eww!" Finn exclaimed. Noticing Kurt's wary look, he amended, "Not because he's a guy and you're a guy... but because he's, you know, Mr. Schue!"

"I know. But Dad doesn't get that. And I might have made things worse by listing all the evidence I'm aware of that points to Mr. Schuester not being gay or into students. He feels I shouldn't know that many details about a teacher's love life." Kurt frowned. "He... might have a point there."

"It's just how it is," said Finn with a shrug. "Us in glee club, we live in each other's pockets. That includes Mr. Schue. Aren't the Warblers the same?"

Kurt considered the question for a moment. "I'm not sure. I mean, Blaine and I are, but... the others... they're friendly. A lot friendlier than New Directions, actually. But in a more dispassionate way? I don't know. Maybe I just haven't spent enough leisure time with them yet." He snorted. "And now, thanks to Dad, it'll be a while until I have the chance."

"What do you mean?"

"He's grounded me. Until the end of the year."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'm supposed to come straight home every day after school. No coffees with Blaine, no trips to the mall with Mercedes, and definitely no meals with former teachers. All my Christmas shopping will have to be done online. I can rehearse and perform the _Oratorio_ with the Warblers, but that's about it. Dad will be timing all my comings and goings."

"Man, that sucks."

"It does, doesn't it?" But Kurt said it with a little smile on his face as he fingered the cover of his _European History_ book.

"You don't look very upset."

"Oh, I'll be upset tomorrow, when I'm forced to relinquish my social life to appease Dad's paranoia. But not tonight. Because I've had the most wonderful day, and I don't intend to let anything or anyone spoil it."

"Yeah? What happened?"

"Never you mind," said Kurt smugly.

"Oh, come on! My day kind of sucked, Rachel wanted to buy my forgiveness with a musical number and that really bugged me. Give me something good to think about."

"I don't know if you'll find it pleasing to hear."

"Try me."

Kurt twirled on the tips of his toes, then leaned back against his desk, smiling dreamily. "Blaine asked my help practicing a duet. He's got a gig singing in a theme park, and he asked_ me_ to rehearse with him. A classic duet, _Baby, It's Cold Outside_. So we did. Practice, I mean. Blaine and I."

Finn did not seem at all pleased by the news. In fact, he looked angry. "I see."

Seeing his reaction, Kurt folded his arms and his voice took on an icy tone. "Don't worry, it was just practice. We were alone in the common room, so there were no witnesses. I haven't, as you once put it, 'painted a bull's-eye on his back'. I haven't forever soiled Blaine's good name by singing a duet with him."

"Kurt..."

"Although, if the horrible thing you're so afraid of is that, oh my god, now everyone is going to think he's gay?" Kurt shrugged. "I'd say that ship has sailed long before I even transferred to Dalton."

"Listen, Kurt..."

"No, I'm done listening to that kind of crap, Finn. 'You can't have a guy as your study partner, Kurt, you'll ruin his reputation.' You don't know what a relief it is to know that that's something I'll never have to hear at Dalton."

Finn stood up, hands raised in surrender. "Kurt, please."

"No, forget it. It was a precious moment for me, and I won't let you ruin it."

"I'm not trying to... I'm just worried, okay?"

"About Blaine?"

"About you!" Finn countered. "_Baby, It's Cold Outside_? The date rape song?"

"What?"

"Did he try something? Did he, like, grab you or give you something to drink? Are you feeling okay?"

Kurt stared at Finn in stupefaction. "Are you serious?"

"It's the date rape song!"

"You're decontextualizing the lyrics!"

"No, I'm not!" Finn's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Whatever that means."

"The composer wrote it for his _wife_. It's old-school romance, Finn, a game of flirting and playing hard-to-get. Whatever dirt you read into it, it's in your head!"

"It's in a lot of people's heads. Everybody knows it as the date rape song. So how can you tell what is in Blaine's head?"

"Well, for one thing, I know him, and you don't. Also, nothing happened! We just sang together. There was no drinking. He didn't actually try to keep me from leaving after we were done. There was no grabbing or any sort of unwanted advances. It was all very... charming and romantic in that sweet 1940's kind of way." Kurt's anger started to dissolve in smiles again.

Finn still looked wary. "You sure? What happened afterwards?"

Kurt beamed. "He said he liked singing with me better than with the girl he'll be singing with at the actual performance."

"And...?"

"And he left. And Mr. Schue came in. You know the rest of the story."

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets, a pensive look in his face. "So... I don't have to beat him up?"

"For singing a duet with me?"

"For taking advantage of my little brother."

"I'm three months older than you, Finn."

"I didn't say 'my _younger_ brother', I said 'my _little_ brother'. I'm still bigger than you." Finn's gaze fell to the floor. "I know I was an ass before. But I promised to do better and have your back no matter what. That's... that's what I'm trying to do."

Kurt bit his lower lip and nodded, his eyes just a tiny bit glossy.

"So..." Finn gave him a mischievous half-smile. "Blaine, huh?"

Kurt wrung his hands, blushing. "We're just friends."

"But... he's gay."

"That doesn't mean..."

"No, it does, it totally does. Because you're super awesome, Kurt, and if he likes boys, he can't find any better."

"I... I'm..." Kurt's eyes were getting glossier by the second. "Tea. I'm going to... Do you...?"

"Warm milk?"

Kurt grinned. "Milk it is."

.

**4.**

"Come on, Kurt, you can't be upset about this."

But Kurt looked very much upset, glaring into the mirror as he went through his nightly skin care routine.

"All those presents are now going to homeless kids!" Finn insisted. "It's a good deed."

"While I'm very pleased to know that some poor child will not only be warm this winter but also in style, that tracksuit was the perfect gift for Ms. Sylvester." Kurt put down the small toner bottle with more force than necessary. "I guess, in a way, I thought of it as my Christmas gift to her as well. So, sorry if I don't like that Mr. Schuester decided to repossess it."

"If you ask me, I don't think Ms. Sylvester made it to Santa's nice list this year."

"No one's asked you," Kurt snapped.

Finn cringed and lay on his bed, propped up on one elbow, flipping the pages of a videogame magazine.

Eventually, Kurt was the one who broke the uneasy silent. "She did a lot for me when I was a Cheerio. I know she got me in the squad mostly to infuriate Mr. Schuester... but no matter what, she's all about winning, and she wouldn't have given me that big solo at Nationals last year if she didn't have the utmost confidence that I could bring her victory. That's something I know Mr. Schue has simply never felt about me. Then she expelled Karofsky when he threatened to kill me. She asked for nothing more than my word that it had actually happened. And when the school board reversed her decision, she resigned as principal because she thought she could protect me better that way. And when Dad... when he was in the hospital..." Kurt's voice faltered for a moment. "She was the only one, Finn. The only one who seemed to... to understand how I felt, and what I needed, and what I couldn't deal with." He took a deep breath and recomposed himself, adjusting the headband he used to keep his hair from falling on his face. "I know she messed up with the glee club countless times. She's not, strictly speaking, a _nice_ person. That doesn't mean she doesn't deserve my gratitude and appreciation."

"I guess she does have a soft spot for you," Finn murmured. "Hey, maybe _you_ could give her a Christmas present. One that's just from you."

"I'd like that. But that tracksuit really was the perfect present."

"Then give her one just like it. She'd probably love to rub Mr. Schue's nose in it too."

"I'm grounded, remember? And the store where I got it doesn't deliver outside Westerville. Maybe I can convince them to deliver it to Dalton..."

"Well, how about this? You call the store, ask about the tracksuit, tell them exactly which one it is, size, color, everything, and ask them to hold it for you. Then I'll go there, pick it up and bring it home. You make sure it's the right one, wrap it up in a super cool package, write a card, 'To Ms. Sylvester From Porcelain Santa'... then I'll deliver it the next day."

Kurt gazed at Finn through the mirror. "You'd really do that?"

Finn shrugged. "Sure."

"You just said you don't think she deserves any presents."

"I wouldn't be doing it for her. I'll do it for you." Finn winked. "Besides, that way I can check the North Hills Mall for new additions to the Christmas Village."

"To what?"

"Mom and I build this miniature village under the tree every year, and each year we make it bigger and bigger. It started when I was, like, five, with only an electric train and a Lego farm... then we just went on adding stuff. A Playmobil saloon and a barn, a little car wash full of crazy ramps, a couple of tepees, an igloo, this mushroom-shaped doll house Mom found in a yard sale, a music box that looks like a cottage that's a heirloom from my grandmother, a little house I had to build in 8th grade out of popsicle sticks... And of course, action figures, Hot Wheels cars, a gazillion Happy Meal toys and bobbleheads, a hula girl doll, a bunch of wooden animals... oh, and four dinosaurs. I usually have them attacking the train, you know?"

"Raging dinosaurs," said Kurt dryly. "How very... Christmassy."

"Dude, you totally get it!" Finn smiled happily, clearly missing his stepbrother's sarcasm. "Mom makes tiny trees with holly and pine twigs. So we have new trees every year. The rest we keep in five huge boxes in the basement, until it's time to start assembling the village." Finn frowned. "They're still there, actually, in my old house. I should bring them over."

"F-f-five boxes? Of miscellaneous toys and random junk?" Kurt turned on the bench to stare at Finn, horrified. "And you're planning to scatter it all in here. In my living room."

"There's more than enough space. We just need to move the furniture a little."

Kurt looked like he was about to faint.

"Hey, come on, it's fun! We'll find a way to add your Barbie dolls to it. They're big, so they could be amazons trying to fight the dinosaurs..."

"Who said I have Barbie dolls?"

Finn shrugged. "I just assumed. Because Barbies are all about clothes and shoes and stuff, and you like those things."

Kurt seemed unsure of whether he should be offended or not. "Well, I don't have any Barbies."

"Oh."

"I have two Kens. And Allan, from the 1991 Wedding Day collection."

"Ah."

"The female dolls in the Barbie line freaked me out with their horribly distorted bodies."

Finn laughed. "It's just boobs, man."

"Those aren't breasts, those are monstrosities! Fifty years worth of designers trying to make those forms appealing, and... yuck!"

"Man, I bet you have like a million Ken outfits..."

"Not really. I preferred to make them myself, but I was still learning the fine techniques of sewing, so it'd take me a long time to get the pieces just right. And then every year I'd donate the ones that had gone out of season to a pediatric hospital."

"Hey, do you have little jeans and little boots for them? And little hats? They could be like giant cowboys protecting the village from the dinosaurs."

"No. Absolutely not."

"You don't? Well, what about little sequin jackets? We could pretend they're aliens..."

"No, Finn."

Finn looked confused. "No jeans, no hats, no sequins... what kind of clothes did you make them?"

"I meant, no, you will not touch my Kens and Allan, Finn."

"Oh, come on..."

"I said no."

"Fine!" Finn huffed.

"We'll use my Power Rangers instead. Dinosaurs are their spirit animals after all."

Finn grinned.

.

**5.**

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Christmas is a special time?"

"As in a time of miracles, the day the savior of humankind was born, that kind of thing? You know I don't believe in any of that."

"So Christmas is just like any other day."

Kurt sipped his tea, keeping his gaze on a tired-looking Pavarotti. "I wouldn't go that far. It's still a holiday. People tend to behave differently during the holidays."

"How so?"

"Depends on the person, I guess. Mercedes, for example, feels this is the time to do some extra charity with her church, so God or not God, she's probably doing some good. Our neighbor, Mrs. Novick, on the other hand, just seems to believe that people should naturally become good-mannered and extra-nice between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and then if she witnesses any sort of minor disagreement, she starts crying and yelling loud enough that the whole block can hear her. My uncle Andy is very tight-fisted the whole year, and then on Christmas he gets everyone he knows expensive gifts. And any holiday is an excuse for Aunt Mildred to get drunker than usual." Kurt put his mug down on the desk. "So I guess it's not a good or bad day by itself, it's just what people make of them. And if you make a good day out of it, the people around you are more likely to be happy too."

"And for you? What is Christmas?"

"An excuse to redecorate the house and try new dishes," Kurt grinned. "And to spend time with Dad."

"Do you need excuses for any of that?"

"Not really. So maybe Christmas _is_ like any other day. A little sadder though."

"Because your mom isn't here?" Finn murmured.

Kurt nodded, the lines of his jaw hardened in grief. After a moment, though, he took a long breath and made himself relax. "But now you and Carole are here. And this little guy," he cooed at Pavarotti. "So... ask me again on the 26th. Better yet, ask me after we've put your Christmas Village back in the boxes and cleaned up after the tree is gone."

"Shouldn't I ask you _on_ Christmas day? When you're actually _feeling _it?"

"You could. But it's safer if you wait, just in case my response isn't as positive as you'd like."

"Oh."

"Well, cutie, it's time to go nighty-night," Kurt baby-talked to the little canary, closing the beige cover. "Sleep well, Pavarotti. Sweet dreams."

Finn leaned back against his bed's headboard, moving carefully not to spill his milk. "I'm just really, really confused right now."

"About the meaning of Christmas?"

"I don't know if I still believe in God or not. And I definitely don't believe in Santa. But I've always felt like this was a magical time. Just... because, you know? I could feel it in the air, from the moment we put the tree up and decorated it."

"And now it's different?"

"No, not really. I still feel that way. Even when I saw the mess in the choir room today, the tree destroyed, the ornaments broken, the presents gone, I still told myself, and the others, 'No, nothing should be able to ruin our Christmas spirit.'"

"A commendable effort," said Kurt.

"But then Rachel..."

"Uh-oh..."

"She said she doesn't care much about Christmas because she's Jewish... but since _I_ care about Christmas, and since Christmas is the time of forgiveness, that I simply _have_ to forgive her, and that it's just not fair if I don't."

"That's ingenious."

"So you think she's right?"

"Oh no, that's total bull. You can't _demand_ forgiveness, it just doesn't work that way. But I suppose Rachel just isn't used to asking for things and waiting for them to happen organically."

"So you think I shouldn't forgive her."

"I can't tell you that. In fact, I'm not the one to ask about this. Forgiveness is not one of my strong topics."

"Now _that's _bull!" Finn protested. "You forgave me, you forgave Puck."

"But that's the thing, Puck never apologized to me for anything, and I never made a conscious decision to forgive him. One day I just realized that I thought of him as an ally, as a friend-despite-it-all, which meant that I must have forgiven him at some point. And it wasn't that much different with you, even if you did apologize. I was still angry for the longest time... and then I realized I wasn't anymore." Kurt shrugged, picking up his mug for another sip. "So I guess for me... forgiveness isn't something you do, it's something you feel."

"Well, I'm not feeling it," said Finn bitterly. "I'm not feeling it at all."

"She probably is genuinely sorry, though."

"Would you forgive her?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. If it was Blaine.

"Blaine?"

"If he was your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"_If_ he was. If Blaine cheated on you with... with me."

"With you." Kurt stared at Finn incredulously.

"Yes, me, because Blaine knew it'd hurt you more that way."

"Finn..."

"If Blaine was your boyfriend and cheated on you with me because he was angry for something you did while you weren't dating. Would you forgive him?"

"There are just too many '_if_'s there, Finn. I don't know what I'd do. I don't know how I'd feel."

Finn nodded and drank his milk, keeping the mug close to his chest.

"But if I were to make a wild guess," said Kurt tentatively, "it'd all depend on how much I... on the depth of my feelings for him."

"I love her," said Finn in a small voice.

"And also on my confidence that he would never purposely hurt me again."

Finn didn't reply to that.

.

**6.**

"Finn!"

"What?"

"Is it safe for me to come down?"

Finn frowned. "I'm dressed, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I mean, is there any mistletoe hanging from anywhere in the room?"

"Ah," Finn giggled. "No, all clear."

Still, Kurt made his way downstairs as cautiously as one would cross a minefield. But Finn had been right. There wasn't one single sprig of mistletoe in sight.

"So... Mom caught you, huh?" Finn pointed at the lipstick smears on Kurt's cheeks.

"Three times!" Kurt exclaimed, exasperated. "One kiss in the doorway just as I got in, another in the living room, the third in the kitchen. And Dad caught me once too, in the laundry room. I can't even remember the last time Dad's kissed me!"

"Yeah, Mom always has some mistletoe around in the house at Christmas time. Although I think she might have gone a little overboard this year."

"Okay, she and Dad are newly-weds, of course she wants as many excuses for sappy smooching with the new husband as possible."

"Gross," Finn growled.

"Maybe, but I get it. I just wasn't expecting to be part of the kissing fest."

"Why not? Didn't your mom..." Finn trailed off.

Kurt put his messenger bag on his bed and sat down beside it. "No. I remember her saying that mistletoe was for grown-up kisses. After she died, Dad never put it up again, so when I took over decorating the house, I never even considered using it either."

"Nah, for Mom, the mistletoe was always for me. I mean, she had a few boyfriends over the years, but none was ever around during holiday season." Finn grinned. "When I was little, we kind of turned it into a game, and I'd walk under the mistletoe on purpose, and she'd have to run after me to kiss me. And when I became too fast for her, she started hiding the mistletoe in places I'd never expect to catch me by surprise. It was a lot of fun, actually. But I had to make her promise not to do it when I had my friends over. Because, you know, not cool. Don't want them to think I'm a momma's boy."

Kurt smiled. "Of course not."

"And this year there's mistletoe everywhere. Maybe we can turn this into an obstacle race, you know? We see who manages to walk the longest in the house without being caught."

"And here I thought home was the place for rest, peace and quiet," Kurt sighed. "Speaking of peace and quiet, or the lack thereof, how are things going with the New Directions? Still no idea on who vandalized the choir room and stole the presents?"

"No. We were going to do the _Gift of the Magi_ thing to buy school supplies for the McKinney-Vento kids..."

"Say that again?"

"You know," Finn shrugged. "The boys would sell their watches, the girls would sell their hair."

Kurt shuddered. "Well, that is one occasion Mr. Schue would have no trouble getting me to stay in the boys' group."

"Actually, Mr. Schue was the one who told us not to. Thank god. Because I really did not want to give away my watch."

"Finn, your watch looks like it's spent the last two decades spinning inside the tumble dryer. The seconds hand is stuck on six o'clock, it's a miracle the thing even works."

"It belonged to my dad."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face with his hands. "I'm an idiot."

"It's okay. You didn't know." Finn gave him one of his half-smiles. "Besides, I know you get it. With your mom's broken dresser and all."

"Yeah," Kurt mumbled. "I asked Dad to let me put it in my room when we move into the new house. He wants Carole to have her own things... and I guess so do I."

Finn nodded. "Yeah... I was planning to ask them to let me keep my dad's old recliner in my new room too. You probably think it's junk too..."

"Actually, it's in pretty good shape, given its age. There's some cracking and scratches, but nothing that can't be repaired."

"Really? Could you... would you help me with that?"

"Absolutely," said Kurt with a grin.

Finn raised his arm, his open palm turned towards Kurt. After a moment of perplexity, Kurt recognized the offer of a high-five, and slapped his stepbrother's hand with his own.

"Cool," said Finn.

"So... if Mr. Schue was against the selling of hair and watches... does he have any other ideas on how to raise the money you need?"

"We're going caroling again."

"Because that worked so well last time?" Kurt's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"No, this time we'll be singing for the teachers only."

"Wasn't a teacher who threw a shoe at you guys?"

"Well, yes. But she was surrounded by students who were yelling at us to drop dead, so... maybe it was just peer pressure, you know. And it won't happen in a room with teachers only."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head. "I was about to say that the notion of teachers succumbing to peer pressure from students is not only absurd but also not '_peer_ pressure' by its very definition... but it's McKinley. Stranger things happen there."

"Not at all like Dalton, huh?" said Finn a little bitterly.

"Dalton has its own flavor of weirdness, but yes, it is very different. I mean, the other students aren't nearly as excited about a Bach concert as they usually are about the Warblers performing Top 40, but Blaine says we'll have a full house for sure, even though tickets aren't exactly cheap. And the teachers are very supportive."

"It's like you go to school in a parallel universe or something," said Finn, shaking his head. "How come are things so different there? Is it just the non-bullying policy?"

"I don't know, really. I was talking with Blaine about that the other day... I said I wondered why Dalton even has a zero-tolerance harassment policy when there doesn't seem to be any hint of harassment in the school. Blaine said August and September are called the Sifting Months. That's when the freshmen and the students coming from other schools either learn Dalton's ways or are sent packing, right at their first offence. The upperclassmen won't befriend any bullies, for fear of being associated with them when they're caught. So... I guess with time it becomes ingrained, you see."

"Yeah," said Finn. Then, he frowned. "No, I don't. Ingrained how?"

"Well... take you, for example."

"Me?"

"Yes. Would you have started tossing other kids in the dumpster if instead of being impressed at your leadership skills all the other jocks pitied and avoided you? Would you have ever thrown eggs or pee balloons at anyone if that meant your upperclassmen labeling you the ultimate loser? If being mean to others actually meant that you'd have zero friends and zero followers?"

Finn looked away, seeming deep in thought. The room fell in a somewhat uncomfortable silence.

"I don't know if it's the non-bullying policy that makes the difference when it comes to the teachers, though," said Kurt eventually. "Maybe having students who feel secure at school makes them less afraid they'll riot or go on killing rampages, therefore less bitter about their jobs, maybe even content. Or maybe they just make more money than the average public school teacher," said Kurt with a shrug. "They sure have much better cars than Mr. Schuester."

"It's like you said last night. It's easier to be happy when the people around you are happy."

"Perhaps the teachers at McKinley only need to be reminded that life doesn't _have_ to suck so badly. Yeah, some of their students do nothing but chip away at their hopes and dreams until all that's left is a never-ending nightmare of pain... but glee club is not about that. You're the good guys in a mission to do good to people who suffer more than they do."

Finn stared at Kurt with awe. "Whoa! That's really deep! I think I'm gonna use that in my speech."

"Your speech?"

"To introduce our performance. Rachel wanted to do it, but the others voted for me instead."

Kurt seemed a little wary. "While I'd probably have voted the same way... Finn, maybe you should let me write the speech for you."

"You? Why?"

"It'll still be your speech," Kurt assured him. "Your thoughts, my words. Your message, my syntax."

"You don't like my speeches?"

At Finn's hurt look, Kurt backpedaled quickly. "No, I love your speeches, I do! You always get your point across beautifully. Impressively." Then, after a beat, "Eventually."

Finn arched an eyebrow.

"It's just that... you tend to take some odd turns before getting there."

"Listen, I appreciate your concern, but... I can do it, okay? I'm the glee club's co-captain, so... that's my job."

"Fine. Just remember, you want those teachers to like you when you're done." Kurt sighed in resignation. "May I at least read it before you go to school tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm not writing it. I'll just wing it."

"Oh dear..."

"I gotta, Kurt. That way people will know it comes from the heart." Finn stood up and stretched his long limbs. "Man, I hope dinner won't take long to be ready, I'm kinda hungry already."

Kurt's gaze turned to the top of the stairs for a moment, and he looked concerned. "Speaking of odd turns... we should discuss some sort of strategy."

"What for?"

"Escape routes and evasion maneuvers."

"What?"

"Well, say one of us inadvertently walks under a mistletoe, and the other one is the closest by," said Kurt really fast. "If it's just the two of us in the room, there's no problem, we can just ignore it. But say one of our parents is there to witness the fact. They might expect us to do something about it, and encourage us to do something, and that could get all kinds of awkward. But if we just ignore it, they might think we have a problem, and they might want to intervene, and that would only make things even more awkward. So we need to think of a way to..."

Finn interrupted the word flood by leaning down and kissing Kurt's forehead.

Kurt blinked, gaping at his brother.

"How's that for strategy?" asked Finn.

"Uh... yeah... I guess... I guess that works too."

"Cool!" Finn patted Kurt's shoulder and moved towards the stairs. "Listen, I'm gonna get my milk. Want me to bring you your green tea? I think I can make tea. Just boil the water with the teabags inside... Uh, where do you keep them?"

Kurt still stared at Finn with awe, and took a moment to recover. "I think I'd rather give your warm milk a try tonight."

Finn beamed. "Really?"

"I've been told it is delicious."

"Awesome!" Finn exclaimed, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

.

**7.**

"Kurt! Kurt! You won't believe it!"

"SSSHHHHHHHHHHH!" Kurt ran to the bottom of the stairs, waving frantically at his brother. "Quiet!"

Chastised, Finn climbed down the rest of the steps on the tips of his toes. "Sorry. The bird is asleep already?"

"No, he's studying."

Finn blinked. "Studying? The _bird_ needs to study too? Kurt, what kind of school are you going to?"

"Singing, Finn. He's studying singing." Kurt pointed at the cage. "And this is my own initiative."

Finn turned in the indicated direction and saw Kurt's boom box placed near Pavarotti's cage, softly playing birdsongs. "You are actually teaching your bird how to sing," Finn drawled in wonder.

"Yes! I read online that the molting period is an excellent time to play canary song recordings, because that's when they find it easier to learn new songs."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not." Kurt gazed at Pavarotti with excitement. "I wonder if he'll respond to whistling as well. I could teach him some songs from _Wicked_. Or maybe he and I could sing _Two of Us_ by the Beatles as a duet. I'd sing all the lyrics, and he'd come in at the end to do John Lennon's whistling part."

"Or he could do the intro for Guns N' Roses' _Patience_," Finn suggested, clearly warming up to the idea. "Wait. A bird can't be an actual member of a glee club, right? I mean, you can't, like, use them at Regionals to compete. Because that'd be totally unfair."

"No, Finn, you can rest assured, that's not going to happen," said Kurt with a long-suffering sigh. "I checked. _Show Choir Rule Book_, page twenty-four, provision fourteen, third addendum. 'All members of the competing teams must be human, no exceptions.' Pity."

Still, Finn stared at Pavarotti with apprehension, as if measuring up the competition.

"Now come over here," said Kurt, pulling Finn to the opposite side of the bedroom, "and tell me what's got you so excited. Did the caroling go well?"

"Yes, it was a great, we raised over two hundred dollars."

"Impressive."

"Mr. Schue cut my speech before I could get to the good part, though."

"Oh, well." Kurt bit his lower lip to suppress a smile. "I'm sure you'll have other opportunities to dazzle people with your unique knack for words."

"Yeah, well, but that's not the really, really, really cool thing I was going to tell you about."

"Okay, so what is it?"

"I totally witnessed a Christmas miracle today."

"Ah, let me guess. No one in the glee club was slushied."

"Uh, no, I think Tina was."

"Rachel managed to say a full sentence without the words 'I', 'me', 'my', 'mine' or 'myself'?"

"No."

"It can't have been that miraculous, then."

"Artie walked."

Kurt stared at Finn as if he had suddenly grown three or four new heads. "I'm sorry, what?"

"He. Walked. Artie walked. For real."

"And... then he said, 'God bless us, every one'?"

"What? No, I'm serious."

"Artie walked. On his own." Kurt was obviously skeptical.

"Almost. He's got this awesome thing... Transformer legs!"

Kurt sat down on his bed, rubbing his temples. "Please tell me you're going to start making sense at some point."

"I'm making total sense!" Finn sat right beside his brother, with one leg folded on the bed so he could face him. "It's a machine from Israel, like a robot, but just the legs. Artie strapped himself to it, then he walked around in the choir room. Twice!"

"That's... that's amazing!"

"It so was, you have no idea! Artie said he can't use it all the time, but still... It was just so freaking awesome. Man, I wish you were there to see it."

Kurt gulped. "Yeah. Me too."

"And the weirdest part? No one knows where it came from."

"What do you mean?"

"It was left for him under the Christmas tree at Brittany's, but her dad swears he didn't do it, and Artie's parents said they didn't do it either. So..." Finn raised his hands, palms upward. "Nobody knows!"

"Well, it can't have just materialized out of thin air!"

"No, of course not. That's why the general sensus in the glee club is that it was Santa."

"Consensus, but never mind that. Santa, Finn? Seriously?"

"Hey, I may not believe in Santa, but Brittany does, and she asked Santa to make Artie walk."

"Right, I know, Mercedes told me about Mall Santa who spent way too long in a tanning salon and smelled like French fries."

"And it was _her_ tree."

"So... what? Santa is real for those who believe in him?" Kurt shook his head in annoyance. "Okay, I think I just quoted the last sentence of some lame Christmas movie."

"No, dude, the point is, it doesn't matter. I mean, sure, there probably is some logical explanation for it. But why look for one? It's Christmas! Why ruin the magic by asking questions?"

"And since Brit wants to believe, she won't ask questions, therefore it's a Christmas miracle?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And no one else's going to try to find out who it was? Not even Artie?"

"Why would he?"

"To thank them, obviously. It must have been a ridiculously expensive gift."

"If the person wanted Artie to know who they are, they'd have offered the gift in person, or at least left a card. They probably don't want Artie to feel elongated or something." Finn knitted his brows. "Although that machine kind of does elongate him. He was almost as tall as Brittany."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'obligated'. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but... you may have a point there."

"Yeah?" Finn seemed surprised at Kurt's concurrence.

"I told you, people act differently during the holidays. So maybe someone went crazy overboard with the do-a-good-deed thing. It happens. So... I'll do something unusual myself, and embrace the... miracle."

"Seriously?" Finn couldn't contain his joy at that statement. "You really mean it?"

"Hell, why not? But let me be clear about this: I intend to go back to my good old skeptical atheist self by the morning of December 26th."

"I'm cool with that."

Kurt eyed Finn with amused fondness. "I'm almost afraid to ask. Are you planning on leaving milk and cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve?"

"Well, think of it this way. Chances are he'll walk away without leaving us any presents if we give him that awful green tea of yours."

Kurt decided this was as a good moment as ever to smother Finn's smirk with a pillow.

.

**8.**

"Well, hello, Finn Hudson."

_"Hey, Kurt, where are you?"_

"I just got home, checked on Pavarotti, and now I'm going to start on dinner."

_"Forget dinner. Have our parents ask for takeout."_

"Do you know how much sodium comes in takeout meals? Dad can't have that."

_"Well, then tell him to wait until Mom gets home. There's a party tonight at Mr. Schue's."_

"Wait, a party?"

_"Yeah, I checked with Mom, she said it's okay."_

"Carole said I could go?"

_"Yeah!" _There was a brief pause on the other end of the line._ "Well, no. She said _I_ could go. But you're my brother, right? So if I can go, you can go. It's only fair."_

"Except that you're not grounded."

_"...oh. Oh. I had forgotten about that."_

"Yeah..."

_"Well, can't you ask Burt? Is he home now?"_

"Yeah, but I don't think that'd do me any good. He doesn't ground me often, but when he does, he's very stern about it."

_"Hey, worst thing that can happen is he says no, right?"_

Kurt sighed. "Fine, I'll ask him. I'll let you know how it goes."

_"Good luck, bro!"_

Kurt ended the call, took a deep breath, and made his way to the living room. He found Burt sitting on the couch, grumbling at something he was reading in the newspaper.

"Dad?" he said timidly.

"Hmmm."

"There's a party tonight..."

"No."

"But, Dad..."

"Sorry, kid. The answer is no."

"But Finn is going!"

"I know. Carole called me to say he'd be home late."

"And you think that's fair?"

"Finn is not grounded. You are."

"So I can't have dinner with Mr. Schuester in public, but Finn can go to a party _at his house_?"

"With a bunch of other kids, plus Ms. Sylvester to chaperone, yes."

"Dad, you can't seriously think Mr. Schuester is a pedophile."

Burt dropped the newspaper on his lap and faced his son. "Even if there isn't anything... perverted going on with him... Kurt, the way he acts towards his students can be really... worrying."

"Why, because he acts like a friend?"

"Frankly, yes. He's a teacher, Kurt. He's not one of the gang. He can't be one of the gang and still retain a parent's trust. I need to be sure he'll be the responsible adult and pull the reins whenever you kids decide on doing something crazy."

"Who says one can't be friendly and be an adult at the same time?" Kurt argued.

"Thing is, Schuester's just proved he can't."

"Because he paid for my dinner as thanks for a favor?"

"Because he picked you up from school without consulting me, drove you for eight miles in a snowy night in that thing he calls a car... Come on, Kurt, every day for two years now I've seen him pass in front of the garage with that damn exhaust pipe dragging on the pavement shooting sparks everywhere."

"I told him we should have gone on the Navigator, but he thought it'd be safer if he was the one driving, and he didn't want to drive a car he was unfamiliar with."

"I don't know what kind of driver he is, but I know _you_. You're a safe driver, you drive a good car, and if you tell me it wasn't safe to drive, then I know it wasn't safe to drive. And there's no way you're going to convince me that Schuester, with that piece of junk of his, knows about cars and safety better than you do."

"The snow was starting to let up by then," Kurt mumbled.

Burt went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "And did he even have a good reason to do it? Not in the slightest!"

"It was a shopping emergency, Dad!"

"Son, no shopping trip is worth putting your life at risk. You hear me?"

Kurt bit down his lower lip. "But, Dad..."

"No '_but_'s about this, Kurt. You're my kid, you mean the world to me. I don't want to lose you because some teacher, some _former_ teacher of yours thinks it's okay to drag you out under bad weather to solve _his_ personal problems, taking advantage of the fact that you can't say no to a trip to the mall."

"Still, you're mad at Mr. Schuester and taking it out me! I'm the one being punished here!"

"You are being punished because of _your _poor decisions. For agreeing to go with him. For not taking the Navigator. For not calling me to warn me of your plans. For not telling me where you were or who you were with even when _I_ called _you_ and asked if it was still snowing, if you wanted me to go and pick you up."

"I did tell you!"

"Right. You did. _After _I asked why I could hear female voices and the clink of china in the background."

"I wasn't going to lie to you about it."

"No, you were just going to keep me in the dark because, you know, what I don't know doesn't hurt me, right?" Burt said mockingly. "You think it wouldn't have hurt me if something had happened and I didn't even know where you were?"

"I'm seventeen, Dad!"

"And you usually behave like a mature boy who can be trusted to make wise decisions. Unfortunately, this was not one of those times, Kurt. And that's why you're grounded."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. With downcast eyes, he sat on the wooden arm of the couch, entwining his hands on his lap. "I never meant for you to worry about me."

Burt leaned back on the couch, mirroring his son's body language. "That can't be helped, you know. Comes with the territory. But I am asking you not to make it worse than it needs to be. No lies, no convenient omissions. And most important of all, no taking stupid risks. A true friend wouldn't ask that of you anyway."

Reluctantly, Kurt nodded.

"There'll be other parties, Kurt."

"I know. It's just... I miss my friends. And they are all there. And... I'm not."

Burt watched sadly as his son finally stopped twiddling his fingers and let his hands fall on his knees in sign of resignation. After a moment, he tapped Kurt's back gently with the folded newspaper. "Listen, your classes end next week, right? So why don't we have our own little party here? You and Finn can invite your friends from McKinley? If it's not too cold, we can even have a winter barbecue."

"Dad..." said Kurt warningly.

"Where I'll only eat brisket and grilled vegetables!" Burt rushed to add. "So what do you say? You're still grounded... but you can have your friends come over, if you promise to put some serious thought about what I've just told you. Deal?"

A tiny smile cut through Kurt's dejected expression, and the boy nodded. "Thanks, Dad."

Burt answered with a nod and a tight smile of his own. But as Kurt made to go back to the kitchen, he stopped him. "Son, you don't need to make dinner tonight."

"We are _not_ ordering takeout," said Kurt adamantly.

"Well, what about one of those healthy dishes you keep making and freezing so I never have an excuse to order takeout when I'm all alone in the house?" asked Burt, amused. "We'll microwave some of those when Carole gets home."

"Why?"

"Well, Finn isn't here. You have your room all for yourself for a few hours, and that hasn't happened very often since the wedding, has it? And I love that kid, but I imagine he takes a lot of space..."

Kurt suppressed a grin. "That he does."

"So... go have some... 'me' time! Have your tea in peace, listen to your music, do all the crazy dancing you want. Or, I don't know, reorganize your closet, or whatever makes you relax."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "You know, for most parents, punishment includes forced labor, in the form of house chores..."

Burt snorted and reopened the newspaper. "You're not being punished for being lazy, are you? In fact, me punishing you is usually a result of you going overboard with something. There's no point in lecturing you in doing more. What I want is for you to think before you act."

Kurt twitched his lips, chastened. "Fine. Guess I'll do a pumpkin-cranberry facial mask, and start thinking of palettes for the new house... and I should probably take the time to work on the _Oratorio_ as well. It's really hard to do it when Finn is around laughing at my German."

He took his cell out as he went back to the kitchen, and texted his brother: _No luck. Tell everyone I said hi._

Next, he fished his usual mug from the dishwasher, and from one of the cupboards he picked the little box of teabags. He juggled the box as he stared sadly at the mug...

...then put the box back, and took the milk carton out of the fridge instead.

**###**


	3. Of Décor and Miscommunication

**A/N: **A "week" in an episode of _Glee_ rarely lasts 7 days. Observing changes of clothes and things that obviously couldn't have happened on the same day, I counted 9 school days between the two football games in _The Sue Sylvester Shuffle_, even though they're supposedly one week apart, according to the characters. So, yeah, I'm aware my dates make no sense. I did my best.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Of Décor and Miscommunication<strong>

**1.**

"Die! Die! You freaking creepy bastard! Just die already!"

"You know, your mom wanted to bet that the first thing you'd take out of the boxes after we moved here would be the X-Box. I'm so glad I didn't take the bet."

Finn glanced away from the screen for just a second. "Oh, hey, Burt. I didn't hear you arrive."

"Kid, I don't think you'd have heard a tank knocking down the walls! Bring down the volume, will ya?"

Finn paused the game to comply. "Sorry."

"Bad day?"

"Why do you ask?"

Burt indicated the screen with a nod of his head. "That was my bad day therapy too when I was about your age. Of course, for me it was _Defender _at the arcade. Much simpler. Still, the same idea. Put all the crap you're feeling inside into pulverizing aliens."

"Yeah, you get it," said Finn meekly. "Although these are brain-sucking plants."

Burt looked around at the room still crammed with boxes, and found a place to sit on the edge of Christopher Hudson's old recliner. "So. What happened? Titans lost the game?"

"Oh man..." Finn put the controllers down with a huff. "We were three points ahead with five seconds to go... We had it! But that maniac Karofsky just had to ruin it for all of us!"

Burt tensed up immediately. "What did he do?"

Finn shook his head. "I shouldn't have let him get to me."

"Finn? What. Did. He. Do?"

"He threatened to let the linebacker through to sack me. On purpose."

"Are you serious? That kid is a psychopath!"

"Well, yeah... except that when the play started, he did try to block the linebacker. I mean, the guy came through after two seconds, so I'm not sure how much effort Karofsky put into blocking him... but then it'd have been too late if only I had done my job right. I let myself get distracted by freaking Karofsky and his stupid rants about glee club... and I dropped the ball. They won, 20-17."

"Damn," grumbled Burt in sympathy. "You guys still made it to the championship, though, right?"

"Yeah. But the team is divided between glee clubbers and non-glee clubbers, and it's getting to the point where we don't work as a team anywhere. And I'm the captain, I should know how to fix this, but I don't."

"Talked to your coach about it?"

"Oh, she saw firsthand how bad things are," said Finn wryly. "Karofsky flat out told her he would not block for me."

Burt was astonished. "And her?"

"She yelled at him, yelled at all of us, ordered us to get out of her sight. Don't know what she's gonna do, though."

"And Karofsky... the reason why he's badgering you... is it just the glee club?"

Finn looked away, visibly uncomfortable.

"Finn, you need to tell me those things. Or your mom. Kurt has this crazy instinct to protect me when it's supposed to be the other way around, and you just saw how that went down."

"He... he's acting like he's won," Finn said tiredly. "He's proud that Kurt's left. Keeps going on and on about how if he keeps giving me a hard time I'll run away the same way Kurt did."

Burt eyed Finn with a measuring look. "Is that what you think?"

Finn blinked. "What?"

"That Kurt ran away? You think he should've stayed and... and fought? Resisted? Manned up?"

"No," said Finn a little too quickly. Then, after a sigh, "No. I was pissed at first, when I found out about the transfer... but not because... It's just... It shouldn't be like this!" Finn shouted in frustration. "I get why he had to leave. School sucks enough as it is, he shouldn't have to risk his_ life_ just to be there, that's insane! It doesn't make him a coward." He snorted. "Whatever anyone says about Kurt, no one can call him a coward."

"All right," Burt nodded. "I needed to be sure you understood that."

"I do. It's like with the plants," said Finn, pointing at the frozen image on the screen. "When they're brown or green, you shoot them up with the Omicron Plasma Rifle, or cut them down with the Laser Machete, and you just keep going. But when they turn red, that means their roots found lava under the ground, and if you hit them they'll bleed blistering sap all over you, and wherever it touches you, your flesh will melt off. So you need to retreat and be smart and find another way through." He shrugged. "I mean, there's bravery, and then there's being a total moron."

Burt smiled. "I couldn't have put it better myself." He patted Finn on the shoulder and got on his feet. "I think I hear Kurt's car."

"Burt?"'

"Hmm?"

"Please don't tell him about Karofsky. It's not his problem anymore. He shouldn't have to think about him."

Burt considered the request for a minute. "I won't mention it to him... if you give me your word that you will tell me or your mom if Karofsky makes any new threats against you. Immediately."

"I promise."

Burt patted his shoulder again and left.

Finn resumed the game, but his concentration was lost, and his avatar suffered a rather gruesome demise ten minutes later. He was about to restart the level when Kurt showed up at the threshold, carrying two steaming mugs.

"May I interest you in some warm milk?"

Finn grinned and reached out to take one of the mugs. "Thanks, dude."

Kurt looked around the room in dismay. "Honestly, Finn, I don't know how you manage. It's been six days already, and you haven't even unpacked your clothes!"

"Don't have anywhere to put them," said Finn, taking a first cautious sip of the milk to check its temperature.

"Because you haven't assembled your wardrobe yet! Would you like me to help? We'd be done in a few minutes..."

"No!"

Kurt frowned. "I'm not talking about redecorating, Finn. It's your own old wardrobe, I'm just offering some help putting it back together."

"I know," said Finn, a little calmer. "I just... It's my bedroom, okay? I want to do this on my own."

Kurt's posture stiffened, but he didn't argue. "So... anything interesting happen today?"

Finn restarted the game. "Not really."

"I see."

"The Titans lost."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Finn kept on massacring virtual monster vegetables. Not finding anything else to say, Kurt went to his own room to check on Pavarotti.

.

**2.**

"Hi..."

_"I just want you to know that all of us are mad as hell right now!"_

"...Mercedes?"

_"I mean it, Kurt, we're this close to going all Jason Voorhees and doing some serious cutting!"_

"What did I do?"

_"Not you! Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste, of course!"_

"Mercedes, what are you talking about?"

A pause. _"Finn didn't tell you?"_

"All Finn said when I got home today was 'Grumble-grumble-grumble-grumble,' which is Finn for 'Hello, how are you?' when he's in a pissy mood. What happened?"

_"Well, guess who we have now as new members of New Directions?"_

"New members, plural?" Kurt put the cell on speakerphone and placed it on the kitchen island as he picked the milk carton from the fridge. "I thought Puck had to whore himself out just to get Zizes for Sectionals."

_"Oh, they didn't want to join. And we don't want them in either. It's all Schue and Beiste's doing."_

"What is? Mercedes..."

_"Karofsky."_

The carton slipped from Kurt's fingers, fortunately landing upside up on the counter. "Wha-what?"

_"Azimio. Briggs. Strando. McCulloch. Rashad. All the meatheads from the football team."_

"Rashad is a decent guy," Kurt protested, looking for clean mugs in one of the cupboards. "I wouldn't have gotten you a date with him if he was a real meathead."

_"Fine!"_ Mercedes' tone was dismissive. _"At least he seemed to be digging Puck and Rachel's Lady Antebellum number... until Karofsky caught him swaying to the beat and made him stop. You know what, I'm glad I didn't go out with him after all. Any guy who lets creepy-ass Karofsky order him around is no man for Mercedes Jones!"_

"Are you really serious? The whole football team is in glee club?"

_"That's what I'm telling you, boy! Can you believe it?"_

Kurt started opening every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, unable to find any mugs. "Wow. Just... wow. I'm sorry to say this, honey, but I think the Warblers' chances at Regionals have just improved dramatically."

_"Oh, no, at least it's not _that_ bad. They'll only stay for a week, thank God."_

"Then what's the point?" Kurt tried the dishwasher, didn't see the mugs he wanted, and banged the machine closed.

_"I don't know, something about creating unity between the jocks in glee and the jocks not in glee. They have the big championship game next week... Finn told you that, right?"_

"Yeah. Well, no. Blaine did. I mean, he's more interested in college football, but when I told him my stepbrother was the quarterback, he... well... he likes to know what's going on in my life, I guess." Kurt smiled to himself, giving the search a rest. That was when he spotted the two mugs on the kitchen island, right next to the phone.

_"Well, apparently there's been tons of fighting inside the team, and Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue think spending a week with us will make things better."_

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Because of the power of the music in soothing wild beasts?"

_"Because maybe we all can find some common ground or, I don't know, become friends by making music together?"_

"You don't sound very optimistic."

Mercedes snorted. _"Should I be?"_

"You'll have to admit that some rather unlikely friendships were born in New Directions."

_"Well, first, that did not happen overnight or in a week. It took us all a long time to get to know each other and even more to admit that we're really friends. And second, I do not want to be friends with Dave Karofsky! Not in a million years!"_

Kurt stared thoughtfully at the two mugs, as if he couldn't remember what they were for. "I... cannot imagine Karofsky in glee. It's like... picturing a life-sized trumpeting mammoth in the ball scene of _Sense and Sensibility_."

_"Oh, Kurt, I never thought I'd ever say that, but for the first time, and for this week only, I am glad you transferred. I really can't understand how Mr. Schue thought we'd be okay with any of this."_

Kurt shook himself out of his stupor, and poured the milk into the mugs. "What's the assignment of the week? Songs about football? Blaine probably knows some, I could ask him for suggestions. Unless it's for the Regionals program, of course."

_"Mr. Schue didn't have the chance to give us an assignment. The whole choir room broke into a fight as soon as Puck and Rachel finished singing. And I'll tell you this: that puny McCulloch will be coming to school tomorrow with the mark of the sole of my sneakers on his face!" _

"Well, I'd say that'd be a major improvement," said Kurt with a smirk. He put the milk carton back in the fridge, placed the mugs in the microwave, set the time and turned it on.

_"Damn."_ Mercedes sounded sad now, all anger gone from her voice. _"I really miss you, Kurt."_

Kurt picked the phone up, silencing the speaker, and murmured into it. "I miss you too. You have no idea."

_"Let's do something together. When can we meet?"_

"Oh, we should. And I want to. But with the move and all, I'm so behind with my homework, it's not even funny. And parts of the house still look like a disaster zone."

_"It doesn't have to be a big thing. Let's just have coffee or something."_

"Well, Blaine and I go to the Lima Bean every day after rehearsal."

_"Blaine, huh?"_

"Come on, Mercedes, give him a chance."

_"Say what, you bring Blaine, and I'll bring Rachel. She keeps him busy yakking about her favorite subject..." _

"Herself."

_"...while you and I catch up." _

Kurt giggled. "Perfect. I'm looking forward to properly introducing Rachel to Blaine. He never believes any of my stories about her."

_"Says you're exaggerating?" _

"Exactly."

_"Oh, poor thing, he won't know what hit him," _said Mercedes with a laugh.

"So, how about Thursday? 5:30?"

_"It's a date, boo." _

The timer in the microwave beeped. "Gotta go. Love you."

_"Love you too, bye." _

Kurt pocketed his cell, removed the mugs from the microwave and made his way upstairs, to Finn's room. He found his brother lying on his back on the unmade bed. "Hey."

Finn turned his head towards the doorway for a brief moment, then went back to staring at the ceiling. "Hi."

"I brought warm milk."

"Just put it on the nightstand," said Finn distractedly.

"You don't have a nightstand."

"Just... put it on the top of this box, okay?" He pointed at the box marked _'Finn's school books'_ right next to his bed.

Kurt did as he was told, and tried to find a place to sit. He couldn't find any. Even the recliner was under a heap of clothes now. So he remained standing, shifting from one foot to the other. "So..."

Finn didn't move or say a word.

"Are you worried about what's going to happen?" asked Kurt. "New Directions and the Titans in one tiny room for a whole week? That can't be good."

Finn propped up on his elbows, scowling at Kurt. "How the hell do you know about that?"

"Mercedes."

"Man, you can't drop a pencil without her telling everyone about it before the day ends!"

"It's Mercedes," said Kurt with a shrug. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing _to_ do," said Finn, falling back on the bed. "It's not a problem. They'll be gone after the game, and that's it."

"Yeah, but..."

"I'm not even thinking about it."

"Oh?" Kurt was taken aback for a moment, then an expression of understanding took his face. "Oh."

Finn frowned. "What do you mean, 'oh'?"

"So... you're upset about Rachel. And Puck. And Lady Antebellum."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Right now, I'm getting really upset about Mercedes."

"You know... it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Rachel is a performer. If she sings a love song, she'll make it look like the one she's singing to is her one true love to the end of eternity and then some. But it's just acting."

"I know that," said Finn curtly.

"In fact, knowing Rachel, chances are it was all an act. Did you notice if she kept glancing at you from time to time? Trying to gauge your reaction?"

"Kurt, I really don't want to talk about Rachel, okay?"

"Right," Kurt whispered. He wrapped his fingers around his mug, bringing it close to his chest as he looked nervously around the room. "Have you decided if you're going to keep your drums here? Or down in the room behind the garage along with my piano? I think we could turn it into a fabulous music room..."

"I haven't decided," Finn grunted.

Kurt bit down his lower lip and turned his gaze back to his brother. Finn's feet pressed against the footboard, which creaked a little ominously. "You know, we could get you a bigger bed."

"I like my bed."

"You barely fit in it."

"I _like_ my bed."

"I'm not talking about changing your... style, or anything. I'll let you borrow my IKEA catalog, you pick what you want, and I won't say a word about it. Just find something big enough..."

"I. Like. My. Bed."

Kurt sighed and turned to leave. "Your milk is going to get cold."

Finn rolled over, away from the door, away from the cooling mug.

.

**3.**

"I don't think slashing their tires is gonna help, Puck."

_"It'd make _me_ feel better. It'd probably be good for your stepfather too, they'd probably go to his shop to get new ones."_

"Yeah, I don't think Burt would see things that way."

_"Dude, I'm running out of ideas here. You've already shot down all my frontal attack plans, all my ambush schemes, and you didn't like any of my stealth plots either."_

Finn paced anxiously in his bedroom, pressing his cell against his ear. "That's because you keep coming up with ideas to screw them over. We need plans to get them on our side."

_"Hey, that's how I roll! I want people to do something, they do it. If they don't, Puckasaurus _makes_ them do it."_

"Well, that strategy isn't going so great right now, is it? The team is already at war. We need to get out of it."

_"So you want peace conference ideas? Because those are so not my thing. I wouldn't know where to start."_

"Well, I think most peace conferences are about reaching a... a compromise. Each side sees what the other want, then each side gives in a little."

_"We want them to become more like us."_

"And they want us to become like them."

_"So... what? They sing a few songs and we go back to slushing the dweebs?"_

"No! No frigging way! Haven't you learned anything?"

_"Relax, man, I'm kidding."_

"Mr. Schue said we needed to show them that being in glee can be cool," Finn remembered.

_"Schue is delusional."_

"No, think about it. _We_ used to think glee was a waste of time, but not anymore. So maybe the key is thinking about what brought us to glee club. You know, us other jocks-slash-glee clubbers. Me, you, Mike, Sam. And Matt."

_"Okay, what made you join? Because I never really bought that story about Mr. Schue giving you extra credit in Spanish. I mean, he was desperate for more guys to join, and he never offered that to anyone else. And I could have used some extra credit, that's for sure."_

"He's..." Finn glanced at the closed door, then hissed into the phone. "He found pot in my locker."

_"Whoa! Finn, I'm impressed! Never thought you had it in you."_

"It wasn't mine!"

_"Of course it wasn't."_ Puck's tone was amused.

"No, I mean it, I don't know how it got there, someone must have put it there."

_"Yeah, sure, because that happens aaaaaaall the time."_

"Puck, I'm telling you, if you tell my mom about this, I'm kicking your ass."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. _"Wait. Mr. Schue found pot in your locker... and he didn't call your mom? Seriously?"_

"Yeah, I begged him not to, and he agreed. He said I could do six weeks of detention and have it on my permanent record, or do glee. So of course I chose glee."

This time the pause was even longer.

"Puck? You still there?"

_"Yeah, just... I don't know. I just had this crazy idea... and if we were talking about Coach Sylvester, I'd be thinking that you're serious and the pot really did just appear in your locker... But Mr. Goody Two-Schues?"_

"I am serious! It. Wasn't. Mine!"

_"Okay, okay, never mind. Is that still why you're in glee? Is Mr. Schue still holding that over your head?"_

"No. No, no. Actually... he's never mentioned that incident ever again."

_"Right..."_ Puck's tone was very suspicious.

"I stuck with glee because I realized I was good at it. And it feels good to be good at something."

_"Yeah, well, I don't know if that argument is going to work with those guys. First, we don't know if any of them have a single musical bone in their bodies. Second, Kurt was a damn good kicker, and that wasn't enough to convince him to stay, or even learn the rules of the game."_

"He might have stayed," said Finn, almost to himself. "If the rest of the team had made him feel more welcome."

_"What's your point? You throw them the welcome mat, make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, they'll stop being assholes and we'll sing_ What A Wonderful World_?"_

"No, that's not... Okay, forget that. Why did _you_ join glee?"

_"You know why,"_ said Puck dryly.

Finn sighed. "Quinn."

_"Of course, I told the team it was because of the _Single Ladies_ play that got us that victory. I said I was there to learn more tactics. But then that trick never worked again, we lost every single game that season, and a month later Karofsky was slushing me."_

"What about Matt and Mike?"

_"They liked to dance. And they were the only ones that actually learned the whole _Single Ladies_ choreography. Sam?"_

"I told him glee club would make him popular."

_"So you lied to the newbie."_

"I didn't lie! Well, not really..."

_"Hey, I'm not judging you. We needed someone to replace Matt and that did the trick, I don't care about moral implications or whatever. And by now he must've figured out that being in glee only means being popular in Loserville, and still he hasn't left, so..."_

"Yeah, why hasn't he left?"

_"Quinn?"_

Finn rolled his eyes. "Right."

Puck snorted. _"You know, I don't think this is helping."_

"Yeah. If only Karofsky would fall in love with someone in glee..."

"Wha-what did you say?"

Finn blinked and turned towards the door, where he found Kurt gaping at him in shock. The milk in the mugs he was holding swirled dangerously with the shaking of his hands. "Kurt! Can't you knock?"

"My hands are busy and your door was ajar. What's this story about Karofsky?"

"Nothing! Nothing, okay? Puck was just making a joke about him and I went with it."

Kurt frowned. "Puck? Puck's on the phone?"

"Yeah, why? You have a problem with that?"

"I thought you guys weren't talking."

"Well, we made up. He apologized, and now we're cool."

"Oh."

_"Hey, Finn! What's going on?" _called the voice on the phone.

"Just a sec, Puck," Finn said into the phone. "Kurt, would you mind?" he asked impatiently. "This is a private call."

Kurt held one of the mugs up. "I just came to..."

Finn crossed the room in three steps and took the mug from him. "Thanks. Call me for dinner, okay?"

Kurt stepped back into the corridor, just in time not to be hit by the closing door. He stood there for a moment, at a loss for what to do, until he finally took his own cell phone from his pocket, hitting the speed-dial as he made his way to his room.

_"Hey, Kurt, I was just thinking of you."_

"You... you were?" said Kurt, a little breathless.

_"I am looking at this gorgeous gray and scarlet pashmina scarf, and I just can't decide if I should get it for me or for you."_

"Oh! Oh, well." Kurt sat at his vanity, putting his mug down a little clumsily. "Why get it for me, Blaine? I mean, it's not my birthday or anything."

_"No, but it's really beautiful and I know how you love scarves."_

"That I do," Kurt admitted.

_"On the other hand, it's scarlet and gray. Buckeyes' colors."_

Kurt rolled his eyes. "So how could you possibly not have it?"

_"I see you understand my dilemma. And I suppose getting one for each of us is out of the question."_

"Absolutely! Coordinate outfits,_ never_ match them. That's a cardinal rule."

_"So how about this? I get it for you, and you promise to let me borrow it on game days."_

Kurt smiled. "I guess I could live with that. Where are you and my new beautiful scarf?"

_"Well, your new beautiful scarf is actually in the window of Wanda's Weaving World, right across the hallway. I, on the other hand, am at the Gap."_

"Again?"

_"Well, yeah, I decided I needed a new pair of jeans."_

Kurt sipped his milk. "I seriously don't understand your fascination with the Gap."

"_Hey, if Michelle Obama can wear a Gap tee shirt/cardigan combo to meet Nancy Reagan... So what's up? You're not worried about tomorrow, are you?"_

"No, that's not why I... Wait, why, you think I should be?"

_"Relax, Kurt," _Blaine laughed._ "It'll work, you'll see."_

"Are you sure? Because the Warblers don't strike me as being very welcoming to change."

_"If the Warblers were that immutable, we'd still be singing nineteenth century ballads, and you know that's not the case. It's all in the way you introduce your ideas to the group. Of course, convincing them to do Destiny's Child will be a lot easier than persuading them to... bust a move."_

"Even after Sectionals and seeing what the New Directions can do?"

_"Well, that's your way in right there. Use logical arguments, give them facts about our competitors' dancing skills, and be patient. Let them realize on their own that you have a point, don't badger them into it, but also don't lose spirit when you hear the first denials. Take it slow, respect all the council's rules, and by no means single out anyone's bad dancing, because that's the surest and quickest way to get the entire group to close their minds to whatever else you say."_

Kurt sighed. "Maybe you should be the one to present the proposal to the council."

_"Me? Why?"_

"Because they like you. They'll be more open to it if it comes from you."

_"Don't you want credit for the brilliant suggestion that might give us Regionals?"_

Kurt frowned. "I... No. I don't care about that right now. I just want us to have a shot at going to New York."

_"Well, then I think you're in the right frame of mind to talk to the council. But don't worry, okay? I will be there to back you up."_

"Thanks..."

_"But you were saying this was not why you called?"_

"No, it wasn't. I..." Kurt gazed sadly into the mirror. "I think I figured out why Finn's been weird with me."

_"Why?"_

"He and Puck made peace."

_"What does that have to do with you? I thought you said their fight was over Rachel?"_

"Yeah, but now that he has his best friend back, he doesn't need a... a fake brother to talk to."

_"You're not serious, are you?"_

"Well, think about it! They've known each other for ages, and they... speak the same grammatically challenged language. Puck probably gets Finn in a way that I just don't."

_"Kurt, I don't really know either of them, but I seriously doubt that's the case."_

"He's just kicked me out of his room because he was on the phone with Puck!"

_"There're probably subjects Finn feels more comfortable discussing with him..."_

"Exactly!"

_"...as I'm sure there're subjects he discusses with you that he'd never broach with Puck. You and Puck are different people. You mean different things for Finn. One relationship doesn't replace the other."_

"What can't he talk to me about?" asked Kurt disappointedly. "He'd even talk to me about his feelings for Rachel before, and I can't imagine a more painful topic of conversation for either of us..."

_"When you were at Finn's room... Did you happen to... inadvertently, of course... overhear any part of their conversation?"_

"They were talking about Karofsky."

_"Well, that explains it, doesn't it?"_

"Explains what?"

_"Finn probably doesn't want to upset you with a topic that he has to know would upset you."_

"You really think so?"

_"Sure!"_

"But why would Finn want to discuss Karofsky's love life with Puck?"

Suddenly, Kurt heard a third voice cut in. _"Blaine, what about this sweater? I think orange is totally your color."_

_"Oh, wow... Just give me a sec... Listen, Kurt, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?"_

"Wait, Blaine!" But he could already hear the beep of the ended call.

He sighed. "Orange is so not your color," he murmured to the empty room.

.

**4.**

"So, you decided to keep your drums in here."

Finn didn't reply. Kurt could barely see him crouched behind the boxes piled in the middle of the room, attaching the pedal to the bass drum.

"Warm milk?" asked Kurt, offering a mug.

"Just..." Finn made a vague gesture towards the boxes.

Kurt placed the mug on the one that looked the sturdiest, and sat daintily on the corner of Finn's bed, drinking from his own mug. "I had a really great day today."

"Hmm?"

"I suggested a new song to the Warblers' council, and they accepted it!"

"Hmm."

"And it's a really big deal. The Warblers are not like the New Directions. You don't just go in there and say, 'Let's sing this!' There's a whole protocol, and you need the council's approval, and the support of the majority of the group. It's a very long process, infuriating at times... but... it has a certain charm to it. Blaine says it's the beauty of the ritual. I think it's the way those guys are, actually. They have class and poise, in a way I never saw out of books or movies."

Finn grunted something under his breath as he finished setting the first tom on the top of the bass drum, and picked up the second one from the floor.

"It's not easy to persuade them to try something new. And they can be a little snobbish. Some of them, anyway. Things have been done in a certain way for a hundred years, so that way must surely be the best way, because if there were a better way, another Warbler from days past would have suggested it already." Kurt giggled. "So my task was to convince them that I am the Warbler from days present that is only there to improve our already august traditions. It took some effort and a lot of gavel-banging from Wes, but it worked."

With both toms mounted on the Y-shaped arm, Finn lowered the whole assembly so the toms were as close as possible to the bass drum without actually touching it, and tightened the arm in place.

"It's a sharp contrast with the New Directions, really," Kurt admitted. "My first week with them, just before Sectionals... Severe cultural shock. I seriously questioned whether I'd learn to adapt. And I'm not saying it's a perfect fit yet. Far from it. But I guess I'm finally seeing how this may work. And that's a good thing, right?"

Moving to the floor tom, Finn inserted each of its three legs in the proper side brackets, then adjusted their height so the instrument stood at a slight angle.

"When you think about it, getting the council to approve my proposal today was really hard... but it was nothing compared to the Britney Spears fiasco last September. Day after day, Mr. Schuester wouldn't even hear about it, and even sent me to..." Kurt drew air quotes. "...'discuss my attitude problem with Principal Figgins'. I know he changed his mind later... and then he changed his mind back again... but somehow I don't think that had anything to do with anything I said. At least I could tell the Warblers were listening to what I was saying. Even when they disagreed, they didn't simply... tune me out, you know?"

Finn raised the base for the snare and spread out its legs.

"It's a nice feeling," Kurt murmured. "Having someone... listen."

The snare basket was beginning to rust, and it took Finn some effort to open it until it was totally flat.

"Blaine was wonderful," said Kurt dreamily. "Just when I was about to give up, he managed to calm everybody down and give me another shot to defend my request. He intervened when I needed him to, but he didn't take over, you know? He let me be the one to do it."

Placing the snare on the basket, Finn twisted the knob underneath until it was firm around the drum.

"I guess he understood how important this was for me. He's good at that. At understanding things. Understanding me."

Finn picked up one of the cymbal stands and opened its tripod base.

Kurt smiled naughtily. "I think David is actually looking forward to working on the new choreography. Remember that whole stick-your-head-in-the-freezing-water-and-run-around-like-a-maniac thing I told you about after the tie at Secionals?"

On the tripod, Finn set the boom arm that would stretch over the drums to put the cymbal in his reach.

"Well," Kurt went on, "I did notice David doing some crazy acrobatics in his attempts to get warm. I don't know, I think that boy actually has some pretty good moves in him!"

First cymbal stand done, another to go.

"Who knows? Maybe the Warblers have their own Mike Chang."

"What song is it?"

Kurt jumped, as if he had forgotten Finn was still there. "Well, I can't tell you that. There's a good chance we'll perform it at Regionals, so..."

"Huh." Finn's attention went back to his drum set, as he started putting together the hi-hat base.

"I heard the New Directions will be doing a mash-up of _Thriller_ and _Heads Will Roll_?"

Finn rolled his eyes. "Mercedes?"

"Tina, actually. She sounded really excited about playing a zombie."

"Huh."

"Did you guys clear that up with Figgins? I mean, the man believes vampires are real. You might want to check his stance on other undead creatures, just to be safe." Kurt let out a strained giggle, which died quickly as Finn showed no reaction. The taller boy just checked the clutches on both sides of the hi-hat top cymbal, and put the cymbal above its counterpart on the proper stand.

"Sucks I can't be there. I could totally pull off Vincent Price's monologue." Kurt glanced at Finn, as if expecting the quarterback to contradict him. "I mean, if I can do Riff Raff, I can do Vincent Price."

Finn stepped lightly on the hi-hat pedal and tightened the clutch on the top, setting the initial distance between the two cymbals.

"It won't be easy, will it? I mean, playing the first half, then performing, then playing the second half... Blaine was very, very impressed when I told him."

"Why are you talking to Blaine about any of that? It's none of his business!"

"He loves football! He's coming to watch the game on Saturday and cheer for you."

"It's not his school."

"Well, it's not mine either!" Kurt snapped. "So maybe I shouldn't bother to go either."

"Don't be stupid," said Finn flatly. "You're my brother."

Kurt backpedaled, too many emotions crossing his face at once. "Well. Blaine is my plus-one."

"Fine, whatever." Finn attached the ride cymbal to its base, and then the crash cymbal. Next he moved the boom stands closer to the rest of the set, adjusting the position of the arms to his taste.

"What about the club's... new members?" asked Kurt. "How are they... integrating themselves into the group?"

"We're... working things out."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Finn opened the base of the drum throne and adjusted its height before setting the seat cushion on it.

Kurt cocked his head to one side. "That's good to know, I guess."

Finn placed the throne behind the drum set and started looking around for the sticks.

"You know, Dad asked me to find him a recliner just like yours for the living room. I guess he got used to watching TV on it."

"Hmmm."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Why _would _I mind?"

"I don't know, I just... wanted to be sure... you're okay with it. I mean... I don't want you to feel like the decoration of the house is... trampling on your feelings in any way."

"As long as my room is my room, I don't care about the rest."

"Right," Kurt murmured.

Finn found the sticks among his bed sheets, and made his way over the boxes to get back to his drum set. He started playing even before sitting down on the throne.

"You might want to tune your drums," Kurt yelled over the noise.

There was no indication that Finn heard him, as he kept on playing loud and moodily. Kurt decided that was his cue to leave.

.

**5.**

"_The foulest stench is in the air,  
><em>_The funk of forty thousand years,  
><em>_And grisly ghouls from every tomb  
><em>_Are closing in to seal your doom.  
><em>_And though you fight to stay alive..._"

"So you're the one doing Vincent Price's monologue."

Finn, sitting cross-legged on his bed, was startled by the abrupt interruption. "Uh... you mean, the rap part?"

Kurt entered Finn's room with a determined look in his face, and practically shoved one of the mugs he was carrying in Finn's hand. "Try to add some guttural raspiness to your voice." He cleaned his throat and recited with an eerie, low tone. "_Darkness falls across the land..._"

Finn smiled, impressed. "Dude, that's creepy! You sound like a totally different person! But I'm still trying to memorize the words," he said, indicating the lyrics paper in his hand.

"Well, it's time for a break," said Kurt, unceremoniously taking the paper from Finn's hands. "You and I are going to talk."

"Uh... About what?"

Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, away from Finn but staring straight into his eyes. "You're going to tell me about Karofsky."

Finn gasped. "What?"

"You heard me. Dave Karofsky. What's going on with him?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, please!" Kurt exclaimed. "He's in glee club, against his will. With all his Neanderthals buddies. Nothing? That's like saying that Greeks and Persians met at the pass of Thermopylae and simply had a nice cup of tea and scones. Now out with it. What's going on in there?"

Finn opened his mouth and did a fish impression for a few moments. He took a sip of his milk, then another, then a third one, before mumbling, "This is pretty good."

"I'll send your compliments to the cow. Karofsky?"

"I didn't think you'd be interested in him."

"I'm not interested in him!" Kurt shouted. "Who says I'm interested in him?"

"You're the one asking about him! I thought, after all that happened, that he'd be a major sore subject for you."

Kurt took a drink of his milk, taking the time to regain his composure. "He _is_ a very sore subject. But that's all he is. I don't want him to be a ghost haunting me wherever I go. I'm out from his reach now."

"Still... why talk about him?"

"Acne is a sore subject as well, but I'll discuss it when necessary. Karofsky is on your team. Actually, now he's on both your teams, the Titans and the New Directions. They're both important to you. So..."

Finn drank more milk.

Kurt kept on staring unrelentingly at him, waiting.

"He's... he's terrible," said Finn eventually.

"Terrible how?"

"Just terrible. Most of the time he refuses to participate... and when he does, he can't sing, and he's like the worst dancer ever. Mr. Schue keeps yelling at him, but it makes no difference."

"Mr. Schue? Really? That's not really his style. He's more the encouraging type. I'd expect that from Beiste."

"Just to show you how bad he is! Mr. Schue is the one yelling, while Coach Beiste just gave up on him. He's that bad."

"Wow."

"And later we were learning how to put on some cool zombie makeup, and he wouldn't take part in that either. He said makeup is for..." Finn's eyes widened. "Uh..."

"Some slur for gay men?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. That."

Kurt's jaw was tense. "Well, that's hardly unexpected, is it? What else?"

"He... _I _suggested doing a different number, just the guys, also in zombie mode. Like, practice for the big number on Saturday. And he... he tried to get the other guys from the team to vote me down. But the New Directions outvoted them. So we'll be doing that tomorrow."

"But what happens if he keeps on being a nuisance?"

"It'll be okay."

"How?"

"We'll put him in the back, where no one will pay much attention to him. If Mr. Schue doesn't cut him from the number entirely. We'd probably be better off anyway."

"What about the football team?"

"What about it?"

"I thought the whole purpose of getting the Titans to join glee club was to pacify the team in time for the next game?"

"Ah. It is. And... Well. I think it's working."

"It is?" Kurt sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, they're all very motivated. It's the championship game, after all. And glee is helping. The power of the song and all that."

"Even Karofsky?"

"I... Yeah! I mean... no, he doesn't like glee, and he doesn't like me, and he doesn't like that I'm the quarterback... but it's the championship game! He'll come through. I have... I have no doubt about it."

Kurt arched an eyebrow at Finn's words, but didn't dispute them. "If you say so."

Finn went to drink more, but found his mug empty.

"Want some more?" asked Kurt wryly.

"No, I'm good."

"You can talk to me, Finn." Kurt's voice was softer now. "About playing zombies on stage, and about dealing with real life monsters. And stage makeup. You know you can always talk to me about makeup."

Finn gave him a half-smile. "I know, bro. Thanks."

Kurt grinned and stood up, taking Finn's mug. "I should go. _The midnight hour is close at hand..._"

Finn checked his watch. "It's not even eight yet."

"The monologue, Finn. The rap."

"Oh, right."

.

**6.**

"Dude, why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?"

"Well... Actually, yes, there is."

Finn rubbed the back of his hand on his lips. "And now?"

"Now you at least got rid of the milk moustache, but that was not what I was looking at. Are you wearing makeup?"

"No. Well, not now, I'm not."

"Oh, right!" Kurt smiled. "You said the glee guys would do a zombie practice number today. How did that go?"

"It was pretty great, actually. Mr. Schue loved it."

"May I ask what song..."

"_She's Not There_ by The Zombies."

"I see. Appropriate, I guess. Anyway, you still have some black shadow on the inner corner of your eyelids, and some reddish smears on your neck."

"Oh. I guess not everything got out in the shower."

Kurt looked pained. "Shower? And with regular soap, I bet!"

"What?"

"I'll be right back." Kurt set his half-full mug on one of the still closed boxes that still crowded Finn's room and left, returning about a minute later with a little round box and two small bottles, one white and the other blue. But as he stepped into the room, he froze, looking nervously between Finn and the objects in his hands.

Finally, he placed the box and the bottles on the bed, within Finn's reach, and stepped back. "Moist towelettes," he croaked. "And the white bottle is regular makeup remover, while the blue one is eye makeup remover. The skin around the eyes is much more sensitive, so you need a special cream for it. Don't rub, just..." He demonstrated with his fingers on his own face how to wipe it clean. "Gently."

Finn eyed the offered items with a haunted expression.

With a sigh, Kurt picked up his mug and turned to the door. "I have homework, so..."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think of me as a leader?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You played for the Titans. You were a member of New Directions. And now you're in neither of those groups, so... you can be more objectionable."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "I hope you mean 'objective'. And since we're living together, I'm not sure I have enough emotional distance to guarantee I can leave all subjectivity aside."

"Still," Finn shrugged timidly. "I'd like to know what you think."

Kurt hesitated for a moment, then sat on one of the arms of the old recliner. He took a sip of milk before answering the question. "Finn... I think you _could _be a great leader."

"Could be," Finn repeated. "Meaning I'm not."

"Meaning you have your moments. And then you have... your _other_ moments."

"Kurt, come on, just give it to me straight, okay? You think I suck."

"No, I don't," Kurt retorted. "I didn't say that."

"Well, you're not saying much of anything here."

"Let me ask you this, Finn. What exactly do you want? Do you want to be a leader? Or do you want to be in the lead?"

Finn's brows knitted in confusion. "What's the difference?"

"If all you want is to be in the lead, you don't need to do that much. You only need to figure out where people want to go, and place yourself ahead of them. To everyone it'll seem like you're guiding them."

"But I'm not?"

"No, because you're just going where _they_ want to go. You're letting _their _will lead _you_."

"And the leader...?"

"The leader guides people through paths they might not want to cross at all. Paths that seem too hard, or that seem to go nowhere. The leader convinces them that the goal and the journey are worth all the effort and hardship."

"So one is the real thing, and the other is just a pretender."

"In short, yes."

Finn scowled at his brother. "And you're _asking_ me if I want to be the real thing or just a fake. Do you really need to ask?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I've seen you display moments of true leadership. And moments of true fakery."

"When? When was I ever a fake?"

"Come on, you know very well when! All those times you took the lead of the bullies in their dumpster-tossing routine. They'd do it no matter if you were there or not. But you showed up and made a point of being the one to give the final word, so it seemed like they were following your orders." Kurt shrugged. "That was your _modus operandi_ for the longest time. You wanted the jocks to like you, so you did what _they _wanted to do, and pretended you were their ring leader. Throwing eggs, slushies and pee balloons, whatever horrible idea they came up with, you took the lead. But if you'll notice, they didn't stop when you stopped, and when you told them to stop, they turned against you."

Finn looked away. "That's not what I was talking about."

"But it is central to the matter of your question. You're always talking about being popular and about being a leader, Finn. Well, those two things aren't necessarily the same."

Finn drank his milk, taking a moment to absorb that thought. Kurt waited in silence.

"So... when was I a real leader?" asked Finn eventually.

"When you convinced the Titans to go along with the _Single Ladies_ play, even though some of them preferred being perpetual losers to dancing on the field. And all those times in glee when we felt like giving up and you talked us out of it, kept us focused on what really matters. You have that kind of unwise optimism that inspires people to be better, to do better, to dream higher."

"Thanks." Finn frowned. "I think. Did you say 'unwise'?"

Kurt smirked. "Well, if you're going to lead people across the Red Sea, being crazy stupid enough to believe it can be done probably helps."

"I'm not planning to do that."

"Some would say that leading a glee club to social glory at a school like McKinley would be just as miraculous. Finn... why are you asking me this?"

"Nothing. Just... something Sam said today."

"Ah."

Finn sent a suspicious look at Kurt. "Ah?"

"You and Sam have so much in common. Such as this vibrant need to be popular. I'm surprised you guys haven't butted heads before."

"Is he a leader or a faker?"

Kurt frowned, considering the question. "I don't know. I don't feel like I have enough data to judge."

"I thought... I thought you might like him better than me."

Kurt's eyes widened in shock. "Why?"

"He stood up for you. Got a black eye for you. I wasn't even there."

"Neither was I. So while I am thankful to Sam for what he did, I'm not sure defending me was his only motivation. Maybe Karofsky said something to upset him. Maybe he did it to impress Quinn. Maybe he wanted to impress the other jocks, prove he can be the alpha male." Kurt shrugged. "I just don't really know him that well."

"He wanted to do that duet with you," Finn admitted in a small voice. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he said he'd given you your word, and he wouldn't go back on that."

Kurt did not look pleased at the slight change of subject. "So?"

"So you have good reason to like him better than me."

"He's not a homophobe. And okay, when I was at McKinley, maybe I thought that alone made him wonderful. But really, not being a hateful ignorant is not an accomplishment, it's the minimum requirement for any decent human being."

Finn cringed, his hand reaching to grasp the box of moist towelettes. "I'm not a homophobe," he mumbled.

Kurt's lips were set in a thin line as he stared at the little box as well. "I told you, I can't be entirely objective about this." He got on his feet again. "And I really do have homework to deal with. So... good night."

He was at the door when Finn called after him. "Kurt?"

"What?" said Kurt impatiently.

"Blue bottle is for the eyes, white one is for the rest, is that it?"

Kurt let out a deep breath, and as he gazed at Finn again, he seemed a little calmer. "Yes. Remember, don't rub, okay?"

Finn nodded. "Thanks, bro."

"You're welcome."

.

**7.**

"Oh, hey, you finally opened another box. At that pace, you might actually manage to unpack all your stuff by next Christmas, and maybe, just _maybe_, have your room fully decorated before you move away for college."

"It's my room," Finn grumbled. "Maybe I want to keep it like this."

"I might respect it more if I thought this was a deliberate attempt at minimalism. But I don't know, something tells me it has more to do with you being lazy and easily distracted."

"Dude! You're here just to insult me?"

"No, I came to see how you're doing. You were very quiet at dinner."

"I'm okay," Finn muttered, unpacking an old football trophy.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," said Kurt with a careless shrug.

"Hey, is that milk?" asked Finn, nodding at the mug Kurt was drinking from.

"Oh yes, warm and delicious."

"And where's my mug?"

"Still in the kitchen, I'd imagine."

"You didn't bring me milk? You always bring me milk!"

"I decided that if I'm going to keep talking to myself, I should be drinking by myself as well."

Finn looked perplexed. "What do you mean, talking to yourself? You're talking to me."

"And you respond by either giving me the silent treatment or telling me a bunch of lies. So maybe it's even worse than talking to myself, because I at least do the courtesy of trying to be honest to myself as much as possible."

Finn put the trophy down on the floor beside him. "Mercedes again?"

"And Rachel. Blaine and I had coffee with them at the Lima Bean this afternoon, and they were full of interesting stories."

"Great," said Finn bitterly. "I should've imagined."

"Yes, you should! And maybe you should have also remembered that I said I'd be there on the stands to watch the game. You thought I wasn't going to notice at some point that there was _nothing _to be watched? That I wouldn't wonder why none of the non-glee Titans showed up to play?"

"I thought I could fix all this in time for the game!" Finn huffed.

"So Rachel is right? Is this all about you being too proud to complain?"

"Is that what she said?"

"Yes. Accompanied by the obligatory 'Oh, Finn would feel so much better if we were still dating' spiel. One can't have a conversation with Rachel nowadays without hearing it at least twice."

Finn ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in dismay. "Listen, Kurt..."

"No. Sorry. I won't."

"What?"

"You're too proud to talk, I'm too proud to listen. Good night."

"Kurt, come on!"

But the other boy had already left, closing the door behind him.

.

**8.**

"Kurt? Can I come in?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I've brought milk."

There was a long pause.

Finn pressed his ear against the door to Kurt's bedroom, trying to pick up any noises. "Kurt?"

"Fine," was the huffed response. "Come in."

Finn grinned. Then made a face when he became aware of an obvious obstacle. "Hey, Kurt? Could you open the door for me? I kind of have my hands busy here."

The exasperated sigh was unmistakable even through the door. "You are so utterly hopeless..."

The door opened, and one of the mugs was immediately extracted from Finn's hands. The next moment, Kurt was already on the other side of the room, sitting next to Pavarotti's cage by the window.

Finn stepped inside, looking around with a stunned look in his face. "Wow, I don't think I've been in here since we moved."

"You haven't," said a miffed Kurt.

"It's great! Wow, it really... it really does look great!"

"You don't need to sound so surprised."

"Well, it looks... different. I mean... from your usual style. I don't know, less..."

"Flamboyant? Flashy? Feminine? Fancy? Florid? Frilly? Fulgent? Ffffffff...?"

"I was going to say 'less overwhelming'. The basement in the other house was so modern and clean and white..."

"Dior gray," Kurt corrected.

"And that other decoration you tried was so full of colors and weird shapes and curtains everywhere. And this is... calmer. Warmer." Finn took a seat at Kurt's vanity. "It's pretty cozy, actually."

Kurt's shoulders relaxed a little bit. "Thanks."

"Are you going to throw the F-word at my face every time you're mad at me?"

"Are you going to shut me out every time you're mad at... whatever?"

Finn took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to shut you out."

Kurt snorted. "Right."

"I didn't want to talk to you about Karofsky."

"But I told you it's okay to talk to me about him! And we did talk about him!"

"No, we didn't. _I_ didn't. What I said... it wasn't true."

Kurt frowned, shifting in his seat to look at Finn straight in the eyes. "What wasn't true?"

"He's not terrible. At all." The admission seemed to cost Finn a lot of pain. "He can sing. He can dance. Dances better than me. Probably better than Sam. Mr. Schue seems to think he's really good. _I_ think he's good. And he was having fun with glee. Pretending not to, but definitely enjoying it a lot. He was the one who suggested a practice number for the guys."

"Wow," Kurt murmured. "Can't say I foresaw that."

"I don't think _he_ did either."

"I don't understand, why didn't you want to tell me that?"

Finn grimaced. "Because... I was having fun with him there. Like he was just... one of the glee guys."

Kurt stared into his mug, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well. Wasn't that the idea? Getting him... all of them... to appreciate what the glee club does? Using music to patch things up with the team, to get everyone to be... friends?"

"And then what? I come home and tell you, 'Hey, Kurt, you know that guy who threatened to kill you and drove you out of school? Guess what, he's joined the club you belonged to, he's singing and dancing with your old friends. And me, your brother, I'm kind of having a good time with him too. Ain't that great?'"

Kurt's knuckles were turning white as his hands tightened around his mug. "Point taken," he hissed.

"How screwed up is this?" Finn shook his head. "I want to hate him. I do hate him. But... wouldn't it be cool if I _didn't_ have to hate him, if none of us had to hate him? If we could just... get him to get over whatever stupid issues he has with you and with glee and... everything?" He gazed at his brother's gloomy face. "But then how do I stop hating him without hating myself for it, without having you hate me for it, without having Burt hate me for it?"

"I don't know," Kurt admitted.

"Then again, that's not really something we need to worry about anymore. Because Karofsky and the others would rather be kicked off the team and give up on all the good work we did this year, say goodbye to a championship we really had a great shot at winning, than having the hockey mullet squadron call them losers or gay."

Kurt raised his head at that bit of information. "Is that what happened?"

"Yeah, the puckheads slushied them, and they couldn't take it. Karofsky in particular. He led the others out." Finn snorted. "Even Dave Freaking Karofsky makes a better leader than I do."

"Was that the reason behind your leadership crisis the other night? You mentioned Sam, though."

Finn sighed. "That was earlier. The Cheerios had quit glee, and I tried to get Quinn to change her mind, and... that didn't go so well. And Sam said things might be better if the Titans and the New Directions had him as a leader."

"Go back a little. What did you say to Quinn?"

"That it was glee club who had her back when she was pregnant, not Sue."

"Hmmm. Anything else?"

"That she doesn't need to be a Cheerio to be cool."

"I see. And?"

"What makes you think there was something else? Has anyone else been gossiping to you?"

"I'm just trying to understand why Sam felt the urge to challenge you so openly now."

Finn growled something under his breath.

"What?" asked Kurt. "I didn't get that."

"I said Quinn was weak. And Sam heard it."

Kurt eyed his brother with a strange expression in his face.

"What?" Finn prompted.

"The football team quit glee because people are telling them glee makes them gay. The Cheerios were told to choose between glee and an activity that makes them popular at school, and they chose being popular. Why do those stories sound so familiar to me?"

Finn gaped, his cheeks on fire. "I... That's not..."

"Oh, right!" Kurt mock-exclaimed. "Because you did exactly the same last year!"

Finn gritted his teeth. "You're calling me a hippie-crate."

"Uh, no. And I'm not calling you a hypocrite either. I'm just trying to make you realize that... you_ know_ how they feel. You know why they're acting this way. You know what they're so afraid of." Kurt's lips curved into a mere suggestion of a smile. "So maybe you know what to tell them to make them understand how stupid they're all being."

Finn stared at Kurt, unsure. "I do?"

"What better lesson to teach than one that you've learned yourself the hard way? I know the game is tomorrow, but maybe there's still time..."

"Actually, the game's been saved. That's why I'm here, really."

"Oh?"

"The glee girls have joined the Titans. Rachel, Mercedes, Tina and Zizes."

"Oh."

"And Mercedes mentioned that you and Blaine might have had something to do with that?"

Kurt sighed theatrically. "Mercedes. That girl sure has a big mouth, hasn't she?"

Finn smirked. "So it's true. I have a team, and I owe it to you."

"Mostly Blaine, really. He was the one who explained the rules to them and answered their questions about how to avoid suffering personal fouls. Me, I told them about the afflictions of wearing football gear on very soft skin, and suggested some creams."

"Well." Finn had a full smile on now. "That's pretty important too."

Pavarotti stretched his wings and cheeped.

"Hey! Your bird is singing again!"

Kurt gazed fondly at his little ward. "Finally, yes. I was starting to get worried, but he started trying on his vocals a couple of days ago. Still a bit shy, though."

Finn placed a warm hand on Kurt's shoulder. "So, I guess we're all done with the silent treatment?"

Kurt smiled, leaning a little into the touch.

.

**9.**

"Finn, would you hold still? Don't blame me later if I accidentally poke your eyes."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just... Dude, did you see it? That quarterback, like, completely forgot about the game! Ball went straight over his shoulder and... Man, so perfect! It was _just_ what we needed! Did you see it?"

"Yes, Finn, I did see it. It was amazing. Now close your eyes and stay still."

"Brains... brains... brains..."

"I can't help you remove the makeup if you devour my brains. So please, be a good zombie and let me do my work, okay? I promise you a nice mug of warm milk if you behave for the next fifteen minutes."

Finn grinned from ear to ear and closed his eyes. "Best. Day. Ever."

Kurt went back to gently wiping Finn's eyelids and under his brows with a cotton pad. "I really wish you'd take better care of yourself. Your skin is very dry, and you won't be a teenager forever. A bit of moisturizer every night wouldn't hurt, you know."

"Bro, tonight you can give me the full spa treatment. I totally deserve it."

"You are really proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"You think I shouldn't be?"

"Let's see... Captain of the conference champion team. Most Valued Player. And a pretty impressive job with Vincent Price's monologue. Nah, I think you have enough reasons to be smug."

"Oh, man, that performance was the bomb, wasn't it?"

"Finn, stop bouncing. Yes, it was fantastic. Possibly the best number ever performed by the New Directions."

"Really?"

"Yes. And unfortunately for me, now Blaine thinks the wonderful number I suggested for the Warblers, the one we've been practicing all week, simply isn't enough to beat you guys at Regionals." Kurt dropped the dirty cotton pad on the trash can next to his vanity, and picked up a new one. "Now open your eyes."

Finn complied, gazing sadly at his brother. "I wish you had been with us. You'd have made the most awesome zombie."

Kurt's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "I'll try to take that as a compliment." He moistened the cotton pad with more eye makeup remover and started applying it under Finn's eyes. "I noticed Karofsky did make a great zombie. Even without makeup."

"Uh... are you being sarcastic now? Because I really can't tell."

Kurt let out a little sigh. "I guess I'm not sure either. I suppose he deserves both the insult and the compliment. I still hate him. But he really can dance."

"Yeah..."

"So. What happens now?"

"I don't know," Finn shrugged. "Coach Sylvester will totally come after us, madder than she's ever been, especially if the Cheerios lose Nationals tonight. God, I hope she doesn't bring that cannon back with her."

"I meant with Karofsky."

"What about him?"

"You said he liked being in glee, and he clearly has some talent."

Finn stared hard at the other boy. "And you'd be okay with that? After all he's done to you? Kurt, come on..."

"I think... glee might be exactly what Karofsky needs to... get his head screwed on straight." Kurt rolled his eyes. "No pun intended."

"What?"

"Never mind." With a moist towelette and regular makeup remover, Kurt moved on to Finn's forehead. "I'm not saying you guys should take him in if he's still the same creep from when I was there. Even if he were good enough to eclipse Rachel, you neither need nor deserve that kind of headache. But if he is willing to put the past behind and give glee an honest try... like Puck did... well, maybe it's worth considering."

"You really think so?" asked Finn gravely. "You're not just trying to be noble or something."

"There's nothing noble about me being safe at Dalton while you guys deal with the fallout if this turns out to be the worst idea I've ever had."

"I don't know, Kurt. I can try talking to the others, but I'm not sure they'll go for it. Rachel in particular was very loud about not wanting to share the choir room with a homophobe. And I can't imagine Mercedes being happy about it either."

"Well, for whatever is worth, you can tell them the idea came from me." Kurt grimaced. "Although... you probably shouldn't let Karofsky know that."

"Burt will probably kill me, you know."

"No, he won't." Kurt held Finn's chin with one hand while wiping his cheeks with the other.

"He already gave me a hard time tonight because I shook Karofsky's hand on the field."

"I know. In fact, it wasn't nearly as hard as it could have been. Dad was ready to jump onto the field and give you a piece of his mind, but Blaine managed to dissuade the tension by pointing it out that you were just thanking him for blocking that troll from the other team. Good sportsmanship and all that."

"And didn't _Blaine _want to give me a piece of his mind too?"

"Blaine gets it. If Karofsky can change... if we don't really have to hate him anymore... Maybe it _is_ for the best."

"Really?" Finn sounded surprised. "Huh. I really was expecting him to try to punch me in the nose or something. Not that he could ever reach it."

Kurt poked the point of Finn's nose with the moist towelette, just for good measure. "Why? Blaine is not a violent guy."

"Yeah, but he's your..."

"Friend!"

"...plus-one."

"To a football game! With my family!"

"Exactly! With the family! You already went through the awkward introducing-the-boyfriend-to-your-parents stage. Congrats."

"Blaine met them when they went to Dalton to sign on my transfer. And he's not my boyfriend."

"I thought you weren't supposed to rub that thing on my skin," said Finn with a wince. "You're kind of scratching me."

Kurt took a long, calming breath, and started wiping Finn's chin and neck clean with softer moves.

"You know," said Finn after a while, "I was afraid it'd make things worse, having you and Burt watch the game. I mean, Mom had to miss most of them because of her job, but whenever she came to watch, I wasn't too nervous about it, because... well... I hate disappointing her, but I know she doesn't care that much about football. If I lose, she's sad for me, because I'm sad, not because she thinks I'm a loser. But Burt gets the game, he likes a game well played, and if I sucked he'd totally be able to tell. And you..."

"I... what?"

"You might not care much about football, but you care about performance. And... you can be pretty harsh when you think I'm screwing things up."

Kurt cringed a little at that. "I didn't know you cared about my opinion."

"Well, duh, of course I care. I mean, I already cared before our parents got married, and now... Can't have my little brother thinking I suck, can I?"

"Older."

"Little. Anyway, it wasn't bad at all. It was actually nice knowing you guys were there. I felt like... even if we lost and the performance was a disaster... you guys were there for me, just like Mom."

Kurt's eyes glistened and he blinked quickly, making a quick inspection of all the products displayed on his vanity. "Were you serious about the full spa treatment? Because I meant it, your skin would greatly benefit from a facial."

Finn wrinkled his nose. "Is that the thing where you paint your face with some gooey, smelly crap?"

"Okay, now you're sounding more like the old Finn Hudson I knew. Guess the endorphins are finally running out."

"No, wait, let's do this. Just... can it be something not disgusting?"

"How about a nice milk and honey mask?"

"Eew!"

"You can't tell me you find milk disgusting," Kurt prostested. "_You _got me into drinking it every night!"

"That's different from slathering my face with it!"

"Fine. What about some avocado and yogurt cream?"

"Don't you have anything that I won't want to eat off my face?"

"White clay and jojoba oil?"

Finn considered it. "Yeah. That could work. I mean... what does jojoba oil taste like?"

Kurt stared at Finn with eyes as big as saucers.

"Nah, I'm kidding," said Finn. "I'm not eating anything with clay in it."

"Glad to hear it."

"I did it once. Or twice. Not that tasty."

.

**10.**

"Finn?"

"Hmmmwhat?"

"You're in my room."

"I know."

"Lying on my bed."

"It's comfy."

"Finn?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you to come home from school."

"Lying on my bed."

"I like this fur blanket thing. It's like lying on a big fluffy bear. And the bear is totally letting me. Like a pet bear."

Kurt set his messenger bag on the dresser, took off his Dalton tie, and sat on the bed next to Finn's thighs. "You said you were waiting for me?"

"Yeah."

"Waiting for our warm milk? I'll get it in a sec, just let me change first."

"No, we... we can leave the milk for after dinner. I wanted to talk."

Kurt tilted his head to the side. "I thought the milk was our pretext to talk."

Finn frowned. "It is? I thought the milk was the milk... and the talk was the talk."

"I see," said Kurt with a self-conscious smile. "Why complicate things, right?"

Finn nodded, but remained stretched on his back on the fur throw, eyes closed and hands entwined on his stomach.

"Okay, so... what did you want to talk about?" asked Kurt, crossing his legs.

"I talked to the glee club. You know. About making Karofsky into a permanent member."

"And?"

"And that went pretty much as I expected. A lot of yelling, Rachel saying she'd call in her dads, Mercedes threatening to cut off Karofsky's balls _and mine_, Sam telling me only a man without honor betrays his clan, and Brittany saying something about lions eating their cubs with pepper but no salt."

"Wow. Even after what happened at the game?"

"They're still your friends, Kurt, not his."

"And when you told them it was my idea?"

"They calmed down a little. They still weren't happy, though. Said there was no way they'd let him in the club until he apologized to you. So I talked to Karofsky, and suggested I could take him to Dalton to see you..."

"What? Finn! I don't want to see him! I don't want to talk to him! Ever!"

"Don't worry, it's not gonna happen. He said no, said he's happy with things as they are, doesn't want anything to change."

"I... I can't believe you, Finn!" Kurt got on his feet and started pacing anxiously around the room. "Do you forget why I'm going to Dalton? And you wanted to take him there?"

"It's not like I'd have left you alone with him!" Finn sat up on the bed. "Have a little faith in me, okay? I'm not that stupid. I'd have been there with you the whole time. I just thought it'd be better to take him to _your _territory, to a place where acting the way he does is not tolerated."

Kurt snorted. "He'd never have apologized in front of you. At least he wouldn't have said the things that could've made any difference."

Finn frowned. "Why not?"

Kurt just kept on with his pacing, looking more and more distressed by the second.

"Kurt, what exactly would he have to say?"

"I don't know! He threatened to kill me! How does one properly apologize for something like that?"

"I don't know either, but what made you say he wouldn't do it in front of me? What about his apology needs to be private?"

"I just... I just meant that he's a pusillanimous creep. He'd have to say all the things he'd be apologizing for. All the things he's said and done to me. All the insults, all the shovings, slushies and swirlies. In front of you. He just wouldn't. He's too much of a coward to face you and me alone, without any of his Neanderthal friends to back him up."

Finn watched as Kurt walked back and forth between the door and the large curtained window, wringing his hands nervously. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt froze suddenly, staring out the window. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay. You said he refused, right?"

"Yeah. He wouldn't even hear about it." Finn lay back on the bed, hands clasped under his head, still observing Kurt out of the corner of the eye. "And I'm beginning to think that's really for the best."

"Right," Kurt murmured absently. "It was a crazy idea."

"It was a noble idea," Finn corrected him. "It'd have been super awesome if we could really fix everything that's wrong in the world with music. Change the bad guys into good guys and, like, stop the wars and all. But we're just not there yet."

Kurt nodded silently. He took off the uniform jacket and set it on a hanger hooked on the doorknob of his closet.

"Kurt, do you get girls?" At Kurt's bewildered look, Finn elaborated. "You've said you're, like, an honorary girl, and before Dalton you spent much more time with girls than with guys... Do you think you understand them? Better than other guys do?"

"You mean, does my sexuality offer me more insightful knowledge of the female sensibilities?"

Finn made a face. "Why do you need to use a bunch of big words if you're just going to say the same damn thing I did?"

Kurt's lips twitched into a smirk. "All right, so let's put it into your words. I _get_ Mercedes, she's my girl. And as much as it pains me to admit, I get Rachel. We have similar tastes and ambitions. But Tina's moods are a little more mysterious for me. Quinn and Santana... that's like 1970's fashion to me: I understand some of it, but it can be hard to relate. And Brit... The inner workings of the mind of Brittany S. Pierce are simply the universe's most intricate enigma." Kurt sat down at his vanity. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Come on, which lady has got your head spinning this time around?"

"You're going to tell Mercedes, and she's gonna tell everyone."

"Contrary to your beliefs, I am actually very good at keeping secrets. When I want to."

Finn sent him a suspicious glare.

"And you have my solemn promise that I will not betray to anyone whatever you tell me in the next five minutes."

"Quinn kissed me."

An arched eyebrow was Kurt's most eloquent reaction. "I see."

"You don't look surprised. Why aren't you surprised? Did someone tell you about this already? I didn't think anyone saw us."

"No one told me."

"Did Quinn tell you?"

"I said no one. This is the first time I've heard of it," Kurt assured him.

"But you're not surprised."

"No, not really. Well, a little. Because of Sam. Are they still together?"

"As far as I know. Yeah, they are."

"Wow," Kurt murmured somberly. "I imagined things would turn out bad for him, but I didn't think it'd be this soon. Was there any preamble to the kiss?"

"What?"

"What led to it?"

Finn gazed at the ceiling, seeming a little lost in the memory. "I asked her how she felt being out of the Cheerios uniform again. She seemed okay with it. Definitely more at peace than when Sue kicked her out last year. Then she said I was amazing, in and off the field, that she remembered why she fell in love with me. And she kissed me."

"Well. That was very... honest."

"You're making it sound like a bad thing."

"No, it's just... It's Quinn. She needs to be on the top. And now she's lost what put her on the top, so she needs another way to get there. And who's the new school hero? So naturally now she remembers how lovable and amazing you are."

Finn propped up on an elbow to face Kurt. "Okay, I'm confused. You're saying she has interior motives..."

"Ulterior."

"...but you also said she was very honest. Which is it?"

"I'm not saying her feelings aren't real. I think Quinn is honestly attracted to power. You already were the quarterback and the glee club's captain. In her eyes, victory makes you now more appealing than ever."

Finn knitted his brows as he tried to process that. "So... she does like me. For real."

"Well. Yes. But..."

"But what? You just said..."

"Remember what _you_ said after the game, about having your family in the stands? And knowing that we'd be there for you even if you lost? Wouldn't you like to feel the same certitude about your significant other?"

Finn flopped back on the bed. "I don't know. Maybe. But it totally rocks... thinking I'm the only one cool enough for Quinn Fabray."

"I think you may be forgetting Sam."

Finn didn't reply. Kurt rolled his eyes and leaned down to remove his shoes.

"Kurt?"

"Hmmm?"

"I really like your room."

"Thanks."

"You think you could... you know... help me with mine?"

Kurt stared at Finn in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. If you can come up with something like this. Maybe a little less... clean and organized than yours."

"You want a dirty, messy room? Isn't that what you have now?"

"No, I mean... I don't want to be afraid of moving a lamp five inches to the left and ruining the whole... fangshoon of the place or whatever."

"Feng shui. And I understand your concern. One little torment of sharing a room with you was that my things kept somehow moving mysteriously from place to place while I wasn't looking. Even things I'd have bet you'd have no interest in. Like my French novels, or my tiara collection."

"I didn't touch your tiaras!"

"Right."

"Well. Maybe once. They were inside a chest, I thought they were some kind of pirate treasure. And the books had cool illustrations on the covers."

"Oh. That explains it, then," said Kurt with a smirk. "How about this? We start by listing all the stuff you already have, then we try to come up with a palette based on that. Your dad's recliner, your wardrobe, your bed, your drums..."

"Not the drums. They take too much space, and... I like your idea of the music room."

Kurt brightened up immediately. "Really?"

"Yeah. We don't get to sing together in glee anymore, so... we can do it at home, right?"

Kurt nodded happily.

"And... let's get rid of the bed too," said Finn with a sigh.

"But you said..."

"I've had that bed since I was 5'4". Ages ago. I guess it's time for a change. And it's not fair that your bed is bigger than mine. Hey, you think I could get a bunk bed? I always wanted to sleep on the top of a bunk bed."

"We are definitely not getting you a bunk bed, Finn."

"Hold it right there! You can play the designer, but I'm the customer! You can't veto my decisions!"

"Fine, then Carole will veto it. I'm sure she's aware of your habit of literally falling out of the bed every morning when the alarm goes off."

"Oh. Right. Okay, that could be painful."

"Don't worry, Finn. I promise to find you a bed that is very comfortable, extremely safe, and totally cool, and worthy of your... major awesomeness."

Finn beamed. "Water bed?"

**###**

**A/N 2:** I'm aware that the guy who played Anthony Rashad in _The Substitute_ was not the same guy we see nodding to the rhythm of the Puckleberry duet in _The Sue Sylvester Shuffle_. But for the sake of continuity, I thought Rashad should be part of the group joining New Directions in the latter episode, and since he agreed to a date with Mercedes he couldn't be a total idiot, hence my merging Rashad with the nameless jock who looked least like an asshole in that group.


	4. Of Signals and Infections

**Chapter 4 – Of Signals and Infections**

**1.**

"You go and fetch our milk tonight. I can't go into the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Dad and Carole are in another sickening 'I love you', 'I love you _more_', 'No, _I_ love _you_ more' session. I just can't stomach it."

"They've been like that since the wedding and you never seemed to mind," Finn pointed out, getting back to the task of unpacking his CDs and DVDs and placing them on his brand new shelves. "In fact, I remember you saying it was sweet and telling _me_ to stop gagging."

"Yes, but that was when they were expressing their genuine newly-wed bliss. Now _this_... thisis just giving into a tacky, idiotic, over-commercialized, wanna-be holiday."

"Uh?"

"Valentine's, Finn! They were discussing how they were going to celebrate Valentine's, where they're going to go to have a pretentious dinner served by bored waiters who weren't lucky enough to get the day off, and whether they're going to spend the night in some gaudy hotel where other old couples will go to pretend that they're still young, dating and childless."

"Could we please not talk about our parents and hotel rooms? Because, yuck."

"This whole holiday is a big yuck," Kurt muttered.

"Is this because it's a saint's day, and you're not into that?"

"Valentine's isn't even a saint's day! It might have been at some point, but now it's just Buy-Candies-and-Roses Day. And anyone who bothers to spend three minutes researching the issue online can learn that Saint Valentine, and by that I mean any of the Christian martyrs known by that name, has nothing to do with romantic love, some crazy legends about a rebellious priest performing illegal weddings notwithstanding. Chances are this madness is all Chaucer's fault. The man writes a poem about birds mating on the day of one Saint Valentine, and somehow everyone starts reading it as some _other_ Saint Valentine being the patron of human love."

"Ooooookay," Finn murmured. "Sorry I asked."

Kurt halted his ranting and took a deep, calming breath. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with romance. Far from it. I'm a firm believer in romance. But as a genuine, spontaneous expression of affection, not this... this contrived fever of hearts and chocolates and cupids and the indiscriminate abuse of red and pink.

"You know, Mom used to be really upset around Valentine's too. Like, really, really sad. And look at her now. Yeah, I don't want to know any details about what she and Burt are planning either, but... you can't deny that they're super happy. It's even kinda freaky to see old people that happy."

Kurt planted his fists on his hips. "Finn Hudson, are you saying all my _very_ rational objections against Valentine's Day are simply a bitter backlash to my being single?"

"Uh... yes? No? I think so. Isn't it?"

Kurt glared daggers at him, and turned to leave. "When our parents clear the kitchen, I'm making myself green tea."

"Kurt, come on! Don't be like that!"

Kurt spun on his heels and pointed a finger at Finn. "Don't tell me what to be like! And may I remind you that you're single too?"

"Yeah, but... I'm like _The Bachelor_, now," said Finn with a lopsided smile.

"Excuse me?"

"The TV show? With all the gorgeous chicks fighting for one dude? After winning the first conference championship in the school's history, I'm every girl's dream date. The hardest part of the holiday will be figuring out which I one I should pick."

"Well, congratulations, then," said Kurt acidly. "Good luck choosing Puck's next fling."

This time, Finn didn't try to make him stay.

.

**2.**

"Your bird sounds happy today."

"I know. I think he was bitten by the Valentine's bug." There was a dreamy smile in Kurt's face as he watched Pavarotti sing.

"And you look a lot happier today too," Finn observed. He sat beside Kurt on the bed and handed him his mug of milk.

"Finn... do you know Rachel's usual coffee order?"

"Chai soy latte," Finn answered instantly. "She'd get really scary-angry if I got it wrong."

"Do you know Puck's?"

"Puck's?"

"Yes. What does he order at the Lima Bean?"

"Uh... coffee? And bagels?"

Kurt beamed. "He's your childhood friend, and you don't know his coffee order?"

"Should I?"

"No. Not at all." Kurt sounded very pleased. "What about cupid cookies? Would you share them with Puck... or with Rachel?"

Finn scowled. "Neither. Why would I want to share my cookies? They can get their own."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I already have all the answers I need."

"Good. What were the questions?"

Kurt sipped his milk, then joined Pavarotti in a whistling duet.

"Did Blaine ask you out?" asked Finn with a knowing grin.

"What? No!"

"Come on... You were foaming at the mouth yesterday because of Valentine's, and now I can practically see the hearts in your eyes."

"I do _not _have hearts in my eyes!"

Finn stared right into Kurt's eyes, pointing a finger at them. "Hah! There they are. Like, cartoon hearts, about to jump out of your face."

Kurt slapped his finger away, but there was amusement in his face. "Shut up."

"I'm right, ain't I? Blaine totally asked you out."

"No." Kurt's body vibrated in barely contained excitement. "Not yet. But he's given me very obvious clues that he's about to. In a very romantic, inspired way."

"I knew it! I totally knew it."

"You didn't know anything!"

"No? Didn't I tell you before Christmas? Come on, you don't sing the frigging date rape song to a _friend_!"

This time Kurt didn't protest the song's epithet, focusing on the rest of Finn's statement. "You really think so?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely. And I hope he remembers you have a brother who's twice his size and who'll beat the crap out of him if he doesn't behave like a gentleman."

"Blaine_ is_ a gentleman. He's the epitome of a gentleman." Before Finn could ask, Kurt added, "That means he's very much a true, true gentleman."

"He'd better be," said Finn gravely. "You deserve someone who is totally awesome."

Kurt lowered his head, blushing. "Sorry about what I said yesterday. About Puck."

Finn nudged him gently, shoulder against shoulder. "It's okay. It wasn't cool that I was rubbing my dating in your face either."

"Speaking of," said Kurt more chirpily, "I received some very interesting calls today."

Finn growled. "And Mercedes Jones strikes again."

"She was the first, yes. Fastest texter in Ohio. But I also got calls and texts from Tina and Artie. And Rachel sent me five long emails expressing concern for your physical and emotional health." Kurt frowned. "I don't know about the latter, but I have to agree that a kissing booth will expose you to a frightening multitude of germs. What did Ms. Pillsbury have to say about that?"

"Nothing much, since she hasn't been around for about a week already. I've heard she's on medical leave... something about a student sneezing in her hair."

Kurt let out a frustrated sigh. "Just when her mysophobia could have actually been useful. Well, you'd better not bring any diseases home to infect this family. Especially Dad. I'm not sure if his immune system is back to full strength yet. Also, whenever he gets sick he keeps begging for high fat comfort food, and it pains me to say no to him when he's already feeling miserable."

Finn stood up, aggravated. "Why can't anyone see the good in what I'm doing? It's charity! Right now, I'm a very fortunate guy, popular and successful. The school loves me. Isn't this the time to give back? To do something for those in need? What's wrong with a little generosity?"

"Well, for starters, it is indeed little generosity," said Kurt patiently. "I know math is not your best subject, and neither is mine, but give it some thought at least. Even if _every single girl_ at McKinley comes to your booth, and even if each and every one of them decides to have seconds and pays you _twice_, you'll still only make about a tenth of what the New Directions would need to pay for the trip to New York if you guys place at Regionals."

"But it is _something_!" Finn yelled. "Every dollar counts, right?"

"There's also the matter of motivation," Kurt continued. "You say you're just being charitable. But Mercedes thinks this is a ploy to get all the girls at McKinley to kiss you, while Rachel thinks this is a ploy to get back at her and make her jealous."

"It's not a ploy!"

"Good. Because I thought it might be a ploy to get Quinn to kiss you again."

Finn had his mouth open to argue, but closed it quickly, sending Kurt a scared look.

"No, Finn, I am not reading your mind."

At that, the quarterback's eyes widened in terror.

Kurt shook his head. "Just a lucky guess, okay? Or, okay, it's more than that. It's not like I don't understand the urge to give fate a better chance to get where we want it to get us. Been there, done that, got the stepbrother to prove it. I'm just wondering... why you'd want fate to get _there_ in the first place."

Finn leaned back against the window, taking a sip of his milk. "It's just... I've been thinking a lot lately, you know? Since that day... and that kiss. And I've been wondering... if that's why Rachel and I couldn't make it work. Because I never really forgot Quinn."

"I thought it was because Rachel cheated on you with Puck."

"Well, yes. But..."

"So call me crazy, but maybe trying to get back to your other girlfriend who also cheated on you with Puck isn't exactly the best idea you've ever had?"

"The heart has reasons that... reason doesn't give a crap about, or whatever."

Kurt smiled behind his mug. "That's not quite how the saying goes, but..." He shrugged. "Eloquent enough, and so very true."

.

**3.**

"Finn! Your hands!"

"What?"

"You have red paint all over your hands! What do you think is going to happen if you open the fridge with your hands like that?"

"Oh. Sorry, Mom."

"It's fine, just go wash them. Outside, at the backyard faucet."

Finn rushed to obey, and returned after a couple of minutes, having managed to get water stains all over his clothes. But that was not what got Carole's attention. "Oh my God, you remembered to wipe your feet before coming back inside!"

"Uh... yeah?"

"How come in seventeen years I could never get you not to bring in a ton of dirt into the house every time you stepped outside?"

"No Kurt," said Finn easily.

"Kurt?"

"He's waaaaaaaay scarier than you are."

Carole laughed. "I knew having a brother would be good for you. See what a great influence he's been."

"He's threatened to starch my PJ's if he ever finds my footprints inside the house."

"Oh, is that all I had to do? If only I had known..."

"Mom!"

"Of course, you'd probably have a better chance safeguarding your clothes if you did your own laundry."

Finn narrowed his eyes. "I knew this was going to happen. Now you like Kurt better than me 'cause he's the neat one."

"Oh, none of that, honey. Kurt could never replace you in my heart. I still need someone I can beat at gin rummy. That was the whole reason why I wanted a child, after all." She got on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm a little late with dinner, so you might want to have your milk now instead of later."

"But... I need to wait for Kurt for that. Is he home yet?"

"He was, about an hour ago, but then he left again." She went back to dicing potatoes. "He's gone to a slumber party."

Finn gasped at the news. "He's spending the night at Blaine's? They haven't even gone out on a date yet!"

"Blaine?" Carole frowned. "No, sweetheart, at Rachel's."

"Ah. Well. That's okay, then. Weird, but... okay."

"Weird how? Because he's a boy?"

"Because he's my brother and she's my ex-girlfriend, and because they used to be at each other's throats all the time not so long ago." Finn shrugged, taking the carton of milk out of the fridge. "In a way it makes total sense that they've become friends, but... it's a little eerie to think of the things they might plot together."

"Well, I don't know if that makes you feel any better, but I think Mercedes will be there too."

"Huh. I guess at least that way I'll find out what they'll be talking about, if I can get her to spill the beans tomorrow."

"Let Kurt have his privacy, Finn. Sharing a house with two new family members is as much an adjustment to him as it is to you."

"Is that why he decided to spend the night out? Why didn't he even bother to tell me about it?" He picked a mug from the cupboard and poured in the milk. "I was right there in the backyard. He could at least have stopped to say hi."

"He said he didn't want to disturb you while you were working on your project. And really, he didn't stay long. He packed his things while Burt cleared the matter with the Berries, and then he was off."

"Cleared what matter? The size of Kurt's bag? He probably had to take all his creams and stuff."

"Burt insisted on calling her fathers to make sure it was okay to have Kurt sharing a bedroom with their daughter. But they thought nothing of it." Carole giggled. "Actually, I think they were a little amused at Burt's concern."

Finn put the mug in the microwave and set the timer. "Kurt's not going to see my awesome booth now. I'm taking it to the school tomorrow morning."

"Take a picture," she suggested.

"It's not the same thing."

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

Finn muttered something under his breath, glaring at the lonely mug spinning in the microwave. He opened the door two seconds before the timer reached zero.

"Finn, how many times do I have to tell you to turn it off before you open the door if you're not going to wait for the beep?"

"Sorry. Forgot." He took the mug out, checked the temperature with a little sip, and nodded his approval. "I'll be in my room, okay?"

"Doing your homework, I hope."

He uttered another unintelligible grumble and escaped to the stairs and to the upper floor. He found Burt, fresh from his shower, leaving the master bedroom wearing sweatpants and a gray tee shirt, a towel around his shoulders.

"Finished with the painting already?"

"Yeah. It's looking good."

"How's your hand?"

"It's okay. I mean..." Finn raised his left hand to show it to his stepfather. "The tip of my thumb is a little purple, that's all."

Burt examined it, touching it carefully. "Still hurts?"

"Just a little."

"It's not swollen, so it should be okay in a couple of days. You gotta be more careful next time, though. You're gonna need those fingers when basketball season starts."

Finn smiled half-heartedly. "I already knew I had two left feet. I guess I have two left hands too."

Burt patted him on the arm. "Nah, don't give up, okay? Manual labor, just like everything else, just requires some practice. You'll get the hang of it."

"I don't know. I don't really see myself becoming a carpenter."

"And you don't have to. It's just useful having some basic skills, so you won't have to bring in some so-called 'professional' who'll rob you blind whenever you need a quick repair around the house."

"Yeah," said Finn with a nod. "Yeah, I totally get that. I don't wanna be that guy who calls the plumber every time there's a clog in the kitchen sink, you know?"

Burt nodded back, patted his arm once more, and started towards the stairs. As he went down the first step, though, he halted. "Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't try to unclog any sinks on your own, okay? Call me... and I'll show you how. Baby steps. All right?"

"Right. No worries."

"Okay." Visibly relieved, Burt went down the stairs to join his wife.

Finn found himself at the door of Kurt's bedroom, which was open. He gazed down at the mug in his hand, a sad look taking over his face, and he entered the room, flicking the lights on.

The room wasn't as tidy as usual. There were clothes laid on the bed, still in their hangers, the closet doors were ajar, a drawer in the dresser was open. About half of the products that usually covered the vanity were gone.

And that wasn't the only thing missing.

Finn quickly took his phone out of his pocket and hit speed-dial.

_"Hello, Finn Hud—"_

"Kurt! Your bird flew away!"

_"What?"_

"Your bird is gone! I came to check your room, and he's not here! Did you leave the windows open? They're closed now. Maybe you left them open and Mom closed them after he escaped?"

_"Finn..."_

"Except that I can't find the cage either. He was so little, how did he manage to take the cage with him?"

_"Finn, calm down. I took him back to Dalton this morning."_

"What?" The quarterback sat down on Kurt's bed, still looking around in confusion. "Why?"

_"He's well again, with a bright new coat of feathers, singing and hopping around in his cage... There was no reason to keep him at home anymore."_

"What do you mean, no reason? I thought you liked him."

_"He's not mine, Finn. He's the Warblers' mascot. His place is at Dalton."_

"Yeah, but... he's like a Hudmel now."

_"A what?"_

"A Hudmel. A Hudson-Hummel clan member."

_"Finn, you really need to stop making up those names. I can't say I like the way Santana loves calling us 'The Furt Brothers'. And as for... Seriously, do you even know the bird's name?" _Kurt sighed.

"Of course I do!"

_"Yeah? Then what is it?"_

"It's... Pav... uh... Pav."

_"Pav,"_ Kurt echoed.

"Yep! That's what I call him."

_"During the long afternoons you and... Pav... have spent together?"_ asked Kurt sarcastically.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, so I haven't spent that much time with him. But... he's a cute little bird, and you were taking good care of him... and you taught him new songs, and he was just starting to whistle duets with you... It was cool, all right? Like a Disney movie. And now..." He looked around at the room. "There's no one here."

_"You don't think I'd love to keep him? I just... can't."_

"It's not fair," Finn moaned.

_"You should know better than anyone, Finn. You can't always get what you want."_

Finn frowned. "Kurt, are you okay?"

_"Sure. Why?"_

"You sound kind of sad. And your room is a mess. Well, for your room, it's really messy. There's, like, clothes on the bed!"

Kurt seemed to hesitate before replying. _"It's nothing. I was just in a hurry when I packed."_

"You can talk to me, you know."

_"You hate talking about feelings."_

"We don't talk about feelings. We talk about things that happen that then cause feelings. Those don't make me sleepy."

_"Well, I can't talk _now_, because I'm at Rachel's."_

"So what? I have my warm milk here with me. You could get one too, and then we could talk. Do our thing, just over the phone."

_"Finn, I'm a guest here. It'd be impolite."_

"It's Rachel," said Finn with a shrug. "She wouldn't mind."

_"Of course she would. And she would let me know very loudly how much she minds not being the center of attention at a slumber party at her own place, and she'd very likely get her dads to kick me out. Or worse, call Dad to come pick me up. So let's not, okay?"_

"Fine," Finn grumbled. "It's just... it's our thing."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Kurt spoke again, a little more cheerfully. _"Listen, Rachel is at the door getting our pizzas, and Mercedes is in the bathroom changing into her pajamas. So we have a couple of minutes."_

"You're eating pizza? You really _are_ sad!"

_"It's vegetarian pizza, light on the sauce, no cheese. Well, the one I'm sharing with Rachel is. Mercedes asked for a four meat, extra cheese, extra toppings."_

"Did something happen today at your school?"

_"...no. Nothing happened."_

"Did Blaine...?"

_"Blaine asked for an emergency meeting of the Warblers. They'll be performing off-campus the day after tomorrow."_

"They? You won't be with them?"

_"I... I don't know yet. I have to study. I don't know if they'd let me skip it, though. I... don't know."_

"But..."

_"What about you? How was your day?"_

"Uh, well, Burt helped me build my kissing booth."

_"He did?"_

"Yeah, he did the hammering while I lifted up the boards and held them in place. We tried the other way around, but I kept hitting my fingers, and I'm younger and stronger anyway. And I did all the painting on my own."

_"Did Dad know he was building a kissing booth?"_

"Sure! Well, kind of. He might have thought that the booth is actually part of the set for a musical number for the glee club."

_"Gee, I wonder what, or who, gave him that idea..."_

_"Is that Finn? Is he asking about me?" _hissed another voice at the other end of the line.

_"No."_

_"Of course he is! Why else would he call you?"_

_"If you must know, to ask about my bird."_

_"Your what? Kurt, clearly you don't know the first thing about boys! Can't you see that's just a poor excuse to casually query you about my sentiments and my state of mind, and to soothe his sorrowful heart by hopefully hearing my voice singing softly in the background..."_

_"Well, then I suspect his heart is amply soothed by now."_

_"Okay, so where's my pizza?" _asked a third voice. _"Kurt, tell me that is _not_ Mr. Blaine Warbler on the phone."_

_"It's not, it's Finn! He's called Kurt just so he could listen to my voice."_

_"Then why didn't he call you? Doesn't he have your number?"_

_"Mercedes, don't you get it? He's being furtive!"_

"I guess I am, right?" said Finn, thoughtful. "Talking to you. I'm being Furt-ive."

Finn heard an anguished moan.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

_"Kurt, what did he say? What did he say?"_ asked Rachel anxiously.

_"Doesn't matter what he said,"_ snapped Mercedes. _"Kurt, say goodbye and turn it off. This is ladies' night. Straight boys not allowed."_

_"Finn, sorry, I need to hang up now."_

Finn pouted. "Yeah. Okay. I get it."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Finn hung up without saying anything else. He put Kurt's clothes back in the closet, closed its doors and the dresser drawer, turned out the lights and went to his own room. He sat on the recliner, drinking his milk and doing nothing else.

Twenty minutes later, Finn received a text from Kurt. _Friendly advice: make sure you have change for $100 tomorrow. Just in case._

.

**4.**

"So here's my kissing booth. And here's the booth seen from the back, with the line that had already formed before I opened. And this is the line at the end of lunch hour. That's when most of the cheerleaders showed up."

"Did Quinn show up?"

"Uh... yes. Sort of."

Kurt leaned back against the headboard of his bed, smiling impishly. "And did you sort of kiss her?"

"No," Finn admitted, flipping through more photos in his cell phone. "She actually came to tell me that she wouldn't kiss me. Which kind of says a lot, right? I mean, if she didn't want to kiss me, she could have simply not come at all. I say she totally wants to, and is just trying to save face."

"Or maybe she can see through your whole scheme and is trying to get you to quit before you get hurt, or before she or Sam does."

"Kurt, you haven't seen how she's been looking at me lately. I'm telling you, she's giving me all the right signals."

"You can't be sure those signals mean what you want them to mean."

"Sure I can."

Kurt let out an exhausted sigh. "Are you serious about this? You're really going after Quinn?"

"Yep," said Finn defiantly.

"Fine. So please, do the decent thing and break up with Rachel once and for all."

"I already did that," said Finn with a frown. "Twice."

"Then do it again. In no uncertain ways. Leave no place for hope or delusions. No mixed signals of any kind. It may be brutal now, but believe me, it'll be the best thing for her in the long run."

Finn put his cell away, shifting on the bed to sit right beside Kurt, back pressing against the headboard. "Are we really talking about Rachel?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're still wearing your uniform. Blazer, tie and everything. It's getting all wrinkled. You only get careless with your clothes when you're upset."

"I'm just tired. Long rehearsal today."

"So you promise you're not talking about me."

Kurt blinked. "You?"

"Me. Giving you... mixed signals. Last year. Not that I knew that I was. Well. Sometimes... I..."

"Finn," Kurt interrupted him firmly. "I wasn't talking about you. I swear."

"Oh. Okay." However, the quarterback still looked suspicious.

Kurt closed his eyes and let his head fall back wearily. "It's Blaine. Okay? I was thinking about Blaine."

"Blaine? But Blaine didn't give you any mixed signals. He's asking you out for Valentine's."

"No, what he's asked me and the Warblers is that we back him up as he sings his undying love to the guy he _really_ wants to ask out for Valentine's."

"Wait, what?"

"Okay, so maybe Robin Thicke's _When I Get You Alone_ isn't exactly about undying love. In a way, I almost wish it were."

Finn stared at Kurt, dumbfounded. "Are you serious? But... what about the date rape song? What was that?"

"A genuine request to help him rehearse and nothing more, I guess."

"Who _does _that?" Finn exclaimed. "What about the rest? You said he gave you obvious signs..."

"Well, _obviously_, I was wrong," Kurt quipped bitterly. "There were no signs. Just my overactive imagination. Wait, actually, you know what? There were some _real_ signs, and those I totally missed. Like the fact that he went shopping at the Gap eight times in the past three weeks. What sane, tasteful person goes that often to the Gap unless they have a thing for the junior manager?"

"I'm sorry, man," said Finn softly. "That really, really sucks."

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, his head lowered in defeat. "I should have known better. And I should've known better than letting myself be infected by this damn Valentine's Fever!"

"Are you sure he did not lead you on on purpose? Because, seriously, the date rape song..."

"Forget about the song, will you?" Kurt snapped. "No, I'm sure, it was all me. He probably doesn't even have a clue that I like... that I thought... you know."

Finn shifted even closer, letting their arms brush against each other. "He's an idiot, then."

"No, I have nothing but myself to blame. I'm the right gender, the right sexual orientation, his friends would not alienate him for being with me, and he's had plenty opportunity to know me and appreciate me. And he likes me even, as a friend. He just doesn't _see_ me. And that's what's boggling my mind, because I'm used to being noticed and not liked. And he likes me but doesn't notice me."

"I'm telling you, he's an idiot."

"And _I'm_ telling _you_, it's not his fault."

"And you're not saying that just so I don't beat him to a pulp?"

"Finn, if I thought he had deliberately led me on, I'd beat him to a pulp myself," Kurt smirked. "I'm taller than him, and I pack one hell of a kick."

Finn smiled. "That you do."

"Could you please be the one to go and bring us our milk? I wasn't kidding about the rehearsal. Really long, really tiring. The council is really uneasy about doing an informal performance, and made up for that by demanding nothing short of perfection. I'm not entirely sure they get the meaning of the word 'informal', really."

"Wait, so you're really gonna help Blaine ask some other guy out?"

"Apparently, yes. Mercedes and Rachel think I should, to scope the competition." Kurt shrugged. "I don't know, I can't really see the point, to be honest. The thing is, Blaine is my friend, and he asked for my help. It's hard to come up with any defensible excuse not to help a friend to get with the person he likes."

"So you end up doing stuff like serenading this Gap guy for Blaine... and helping me dress up for dinner with the Fabrays."

Kurt glanced at Finn out of the corner of his eye. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"

Finn gazed at him for a moment, then pulled him into a quick half-embrace. "I don't care what you say, he's an idiot." He jumped out of bed the next second. "Two mugs of warm milk coming up!"

.

**5.**

"Finn! Finn! Come on, we've just got the house! Try not to knock it to the ground!"

The door to Finn's bedroom opened with a swish, and the tall boy beamed down at his brother. "Finally, you're home!" He grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him unceremoniously inside. "I have so much to tell you."

"Is that why you're jumping up and down, 'cause I could hear the manic thumping... Wait, is that Katy Perry?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to find a song for this week's glee club assignment."

"The girls told me you're supposed to pair up and sing what you consider the most romantic song of all time."

"Yeah, and I'm doing the trick Mrs. Schuester taught me, typing keywords into the iTunes and seeing what fits."

"And somehow you ended up with _I Kissed a Girl_?"

Finn opened his arms and shrugged, his smile broadening smugly.

"Quinn came to your booth," Kurt realized.

The song coming from the speakers reached the chorus once more, and Finn joined in, dancing ecstatically.

.

_"I kissed a girl and liked it  
>The taste of her cherry chap stick<br>I kissed a girl just to try it..."_

_._

Kurt marched to the computer and turned off the sound. "Okay, first, no Katy Perry in this house. Ever."

"You listen to _Teenage Dream_ all the time."

"Not anymore, I don't."

"It's your ringtone for Blai... Oh."

"Yeah, exactly. It _was_ my ringtone for him. Now it's Sade's _Smooth Operator_. Second, you know the next line of the chorus is _'I hope my boyfriend don't mind it'_, right?"

"Yeah, well, I was thinking of making a few changes to the lyrics, like saying 'her boyfriend' instead of 'my boyfriend'... and probably getting rid of the whole second verse..."

"Finn, even if you change the entire thing, _third_, are you really going to sing this to Quinn at glee club? In front of her boyfriend? And just hope he doesn't mind?"

"But that's the beauty of my plan, Sam won't get it!" said Finn triumphantly. "He was right there when I kissed her, and he thought nothing of it."

"And fourth, maybe there was nothing to think of. You were selling kisses in a booth. What makes you think it meant anything more than a simple donation for charity?"

"Because there were fireworks, Kurt! Fireworks!"

"Fireworks," Kurt echoed.

"Yes! Fireworks! Booming, bright, exploding in colors of fire all over the place like the end of _V for Vendetta_!"

"Wow. A kiss with the power to blow up the Houses of the British Parliament," said Kurt cynically.

"You just don't know what it's like."

Kurt sent him a glare and turned away. "And what if the fireworks didn't go off for Quinn too?"

"Ah, but they did. I know they did, because she came back and asked me to meet her tomorrow in the auditorium. Like, she _whispered_ it in my ear, you know? With her husky voice. Like a mermaid or something."

Kurt sat down on a corner of Finn's bed, arms folded over the chest. "What about Rachel? Did you talk to her?"

Finn's enthusiasm waned immediately. "Yeah, she came to the booth too, before Quinn. Told me kissing me wouldn't be weird for her because she didn't want any men in her life. But then I thought it'd be weird for _me_, so I kissed her on the cheek, and she got mad."

"Oh, dear."

"So I followed your advice. I... I don't want her to still be hung up on me, demanding me to forgive her, waiting for me to get back with her, because I really don't see that happening now. So I broke up with her again. I even gave her that star necklace I bought her for Christmas."

Kurt arched an eyebrow."A breakup present? Finn, my advice was about _avoiding_ mixed signals, not giving her more of them."

Finn shook his head. "It wasn't like that. I told her it'll be good for her to be alone and focusing on her career now, like she was talking about. That I believe in her. I just don't want to be with her."

"Hmm. Brutal," said Kurt with a nod, "but hopefully effective. It's hard to say. Hope can be hard to kill."

"Oh, crap," said Finn suddenly.

"What?"

"I forgot. That serenade thing to Blaine's... whatever. It was today, wasn't it? That's why you got home so late."

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"So? How was it?"

"We were great. We truly were. Impressive performance. The shoppers loved us, danced along, applauded effusively. So much energy. I think the Warblers will really surprise you at Regionals."

"Kurt..."

"Other than that, it was an unmitigated disaster. As it turned out, Mr. Junior Manager of the Gap was neither out nor that much into Blaine. Or maybe at all. And he was certainly even less so when his ignorant boss fired him over our performance."

"Seriously?"

"Blaine told me his tragic love story afterwards. He met Jeremiah... that's the guy's name... when he went to the store to return a shirt whose buttons weren't aligned properly. Blaine was very taken by the swiftness with which the problem was solved, and I imagine also by the guy's salesman skills, since he left with not only a new perfect shirt, but also a blazer, a vest and two neckties." Kurt snorted. "Most conveniently, Blaine has several friends and relatives with birthdays in January, and he decided to gift them all with items from the Gap. In one of those shopping excursions, he arrived at the store just when Jeremiah was leaving for his coffee break, and Blaine basically invited himself to go along with him. A few more trips to the mall later, and Blaine managed to score a second coffee date. And that was last week."

"So... there was, like, _nothing_ going on between them?"

"Apparently Blaine read way too much into the guy's determination to sell him socks, and into some perfunctory bonding over gay celebrities. It was really sad, actually."

"I don't mean to be insensitive, but... isn't that sort of good news? Means you still have a chance."

"Do I? I don't know. I'm just really confused right now."

Finn sat down beside him. "Can I help? I'm confused most of the time."

A little smile escaped Kurt for a second. "Meaning that you know the terrain and can guide me out of here?"

"Meaning that I know how it feels."

Kurt sighed. "I just... I don't get it. He thought he saw something in this guy. Something that wasn't there. And I thought I saw the same thing in Blaine, and that wasn't there either. So he was blind, and I was blind. But... how could he see the signs Jeremiah was giving him and read something into them... and at the same time give me the same signs... or even better signs... and not expect me to read them the same way he did?"

Finn's face contorted in several different ways before he admitted, "Dude, you lost me."

"They went out for coffee twice, they split the bill, and they talked about Perez Hilton. Meanwhile, Blaine and I would meet for coffee three times a week even before I transferred to Dalton. Now it's almost a daily thing. And he's paid for me a few times, and we share cookies and muffins, and we talk about _everything_, and we have so much in common. And he's always smiling at me and touching my arms, my shoulders, my knees, and he sang the frigging date rape song with me! And somehow Mr. Blond Hair in Dire Need of a Better Conditioner is his epic romance, and I'm nothing?"

"So... now you're thinking maybe Blaine _did_ mean to lead you on?"

"No." Kurt shook his head vehemently. "No, he wouldn't. Absolutely not. That'd be... evil. Blaine isn't like that."

"Then, he's an idiot?"

Kurt sighed again. "Yes. Blaine Anderson is a complete and utter idiot."

.

**6.**

_"You know, Hummel, I think you called the wrong number. Why the hell do you think I'd be interested in your Sergeant Pepper's Preppy Sparrows' Pity Party?"_

"It's the Warblers' Lonely Hearts Club dinner, Santana. And I thought you might not want to be the only one from the New Directions not to come."

_"Then you thought wrong, 'cause I certainly don't mind being the only one with something better to do on Valentine's Day than watching a bunch of Lady Larks swaying their fannies and chirruping about never-ending love."_

"I am so disappointed in you. For someone who claims to have impeccable gaydar... Really, Azimio's might be more reliable than yours." Kurt snorted, and added in a lower tone, "And that's saying something."

_"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"_

Kurt shook his head and refocused on the present conversation. "It means what it means. Your gay jokes only serve to make you look ignorant. Of course, I'm talking to someone who thinks misconjugating verbs makes her sound tough, so why am I surprised?"

_"And when have I ever cared about your opinion? Oh, that's right... Never!"_

"Good for you. Because I also don't think much of your weak attempt at pretending your current social life is any more exciting than watching the hands move around a clock all day long. You forget I still have several trustworthy informants at McKinley High."

The sound that came from the other end of the line sounded positively like a growl. _"Fine! So maybe I'm not playing my A-game right now. And yet, still I'd rather die than go to your stupid glee mixer. What does_ that_ tell you?"_

Kurt saw his own brow frown in his vanity mirror and then clear up as a wicked smile twisted his lips. "Oh. I'm sorry, Santana. I hadn't realized it. You have an _extremely _good reason not to come."

_"I have a thousand reasons. Which one are you talking about?"_

"Puck, of course. He's coming with someone else. Not just someone else, but Lauren Zizes. That must be soooooo embarrassing to you."

_"Wait, what?"_

"I totally get it. You need to protect your heart from the pain of seeing them together."

_"Hummel, are you stoned? The most I get from seeing Puck with the white hippopotamus is heartburn."_

"Of course, Puck will probably realize that he was the reason why you're _the only one_ who didn't go. That you care for him so much that you'd rather spend Valentine's Day at home, all alone, crying in your bed, than face the fact that he likes someone else."

_"That is a colossal load of bullshit!"_

"And anyway, I suppose your heart is not the only thing you should protect. I mean, I heard how Zizes scrubbed the floor of the school with your hair yesterday."

_"WHAT? I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent, you hear me? I grew up sharpening my teeth on the bones of girls like Zizes. Whatever you heard is a lie from people who piss themselves whenever I walk into a room. I put Zizes in. Her. Place. Have fun picking out her bones in tomorrow's meatloaf surprise."_

"I see. Anyway, you're absolutely right. There's no way Puck will think you're heartbroken because of him. I mean, it's not like he's a conceited prick who thinks everyone wants to get in his shorts. Deep down, he's a very humble, unpretentious guy. And Zizes, she'll know better than to think you're afraid of her. Right?"

There was a very, very long pause. Kurt merely waited.

_"Hummel?"_ Santana hissed.

"Yes?"

_"You're a despicable manipulative bitch. I'm almost proud of you."_

"Why, Santana, I think that might have been the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!" Kurt picked up a pen a ticked off Santana's name from the list in front of him. "Tomorrow, Breadstix, 8:00 sharp. See you there."

_"Some of those Warblers had better be straight to make it worth my time."_

"Most of them are," Kurt assured her. "Most of them have girlfriends too, though."

_"Entirely irrelevant. By the way, Kurt... How's Finn?"_

"Finn? He's not home yet, so you must have seen him the latest. Why?"

_"Oh, just curious."_

"If you're thinking of asking Finn to be your last resource date for Valentine's..."

_"Oh, please! If I were interested in lame reruns, I'd stay home and watch _Little House on the Prairie_. Just thought he looked a little green earlier. You know, serial kissing is not for the untrained rookie, there's technique to it."_

"Trust you to make kissing sound like a sport."

_"Don't knock it 'til you try it, Cherry Lips."_ Next, Kurt heard the noise of Santana hanging up.

He put down his cell with a sigh. "I _have_ tried it," he muttered. "So far, it has failed to live up to the hype."

"Who were you talking to?"

Kurt turned on his seat and found Finn standing at his door, bringing their two mugs of milk. "That must have been a very long and entertaining pyrotechnical spectacle if you only got home now."

"What?"

"Fireworks, Finn?"

"Oh. Yeah, lots of fireworks," said Finn with a lopsided smile. "I even lost track of time."

"Well, you didn't miss dinner, so it can't have been that exciting."

Finn set one of the mugs on the vanity, and sat down on Kurt's bed. "So who were you talking to? I heard my name."

"Santana. She asked about you."

"Really?" Finn's smile turned into a smirk. "I think she might have a thing for me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Think about it. Why else would she ask about me?"

"I don't know, and if I were you, I'd be afraid to find out."

"That's because you don't know what happened between us today." Finn eyed Kurt suspiciously. "Do you?"

"Uh... Hmm. It's possible that my informants might have failed me this time. I should have a serious conversation with them. So what happened?"

"She kissed me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right. And this actually might be significant, if you hadn't set up a kissing booth at school."

"Yeah, but it wasn't a kissing booth kiss."

"Oh. You were not at the booth when it happened?"

"Well, no, I was. But she didn't wait in line."

"She never does."

"And she was wearing a sexy candy striper costume."

"Bizarre, but still..."

"And she didn't pay me!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly.

"Not necessarily a compliment."

"She said she couldn't help herself."

"Not necessarily personal."

"Why are you being so negative?" Finn grimaced. "Is it because she used to be with Puck? Because no girl who's been with him could possibly be interested in me?"

"No, it's because it's _Santana_. That girl doesn't breathe without an ulterior motive. You'd better watch your back."

"I can handle Santana."

Kurt gazed at Finn with fond exasperation, but said nothing, choosing to drink his milk instead.

"Did she call you to ask what I'll be doing on Valentine's?"

"No, _I _called _her _to _tell_ her what _she'll_ be doing on Valentine's," Kurt retorted. "The Warblers will be putting on a little show at Breadstix. They were pretty excited about the positive response we got from the shoppers at the Gap, and Blaine and I managed to convince the council that we have a lot to gain from offering more informal performances like that. We'll be singing songs that were voted out from the setlist for Sectionals, so we don't need much preparation. I already invited... or blackmailed... almost everyone from the New Directions. Except for you and Quinn, of course, I knew you'd be too busy to answer your phones. All of the others have confirmed their presence."

Finn frowned suspiciously. "Kurt, what are you planning?"

Kurt blinked. "Haven't I just explained it all at length?"

"Yeah, and it sounds like you found a sneaky way to spend Valentine's with Blaine. Only with two glee clubs worth of chaperones."

"It's not like that. Blaine and I talked. We cleared the whole thing up."

Finn snorted. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, we did."

"Does he know you like him?" Finn asked with a challenging tone.

"Yes."

Finn's eyes widened in shock. "You told him you like him?"

"I told him I thought he was going to ask me out."

"And...?"

"And he let me know the thought has never crossed his mind."

"Ouch."

"I know. Not exactly good news. But our friendship is too important for the both of us, and we agreed not to let it be ruined by mixed signals and foolish romantic fantasies."

"Yeah, but... won't it be weird now?"

"It doesn't have to be. I think it's better this way, with all in the open. Now he knows that I was interested, and I know he never was. We move on from that."

"Can you?"

Kurt shrugged. "If I can be your brother, then I can be his friend. It shouldn't be half as complicated. In a way, I'm relieved."

"Relieved? Why?"

"I didn't want my relationship with Blaine to be like my relationship with you last year," said Kurt frankly.

Finn looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "What?"

"I didn't know... if you knew... that I..." Kurt took a deep breath, braced himself and went on. "You wouldn't say anything. I suppose you were pretending you didn't notice how I felt... but at the time I thought you legitimately didn't understand it. Only when you yelled at me, that day when I redecorated the basement... then I knew you knew. Then I knew you had known all along."

"I... I thought that if I didn't say anything..."

"That it would all go away? That _I _would go away?"

"I didn't want you to go away," Finn countered. "If I did, I'd have pushed you away right from the start, without a second thought. But you've always been super smart, so I was hoping I wouldn't have to. That you'd give up eventually, and go for someone like you. Who could like you back in that way. I didn't want to say the words that would hurt your feelings, okay?"

"Why, thank you. Because it's really much more agreeable to be addressed by a homophobic slur than to be let down gently."

Finn gazed at his brother sadly. "Do we really need to keep doing this? I screwed up that day. You were getting crazy intense, and you _know _that, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. And okay, maybe things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand if I had manned up and told you to stop as soon as I noticed your flirting. But I can't say I'm sorry. I just can't."

"You're not sorry," Kurt echoed acidly.

"No. And you shouldn't be either. We both screwed up, and because of that, our parents are together. And they're, like, chick-movie-ending happy. And you and I, we have... this." Finn clinked their mugs together in a toast.

Kurt stared at their mugs, his face touched by a mix of surprise, affection and sadness. He remained a good couple of minutes completely still and silent, seemingly lost in thoughts. Finn tried not to fidget as he waited for his brother to show some kind of reaction.

"So, basically, 'All's well that ends well'?" Kurt murmured eventually.

"Something like that."

Kurt bit down his lower lip. "I didn't think I was still angry about this. I told you, forgiving isn't my forte."

"Are you really angry? I'm not sure you sounded angry."

"Bitter? Resentful? Whiny?"

"How about scared?"

Kurt raised his eyes to face Finn, startled.

"It's like... my left arm. I broke it jumping from a swing when I was ten. Right here." Finn changed his mug from one hand to the other, and traced a line with his finger, crossing his forearm roughly in the middle of the bone. "It's fixed now, it doesn't bother me at all. I remember that at the time I thought maybe it'd hurt when it's about to rain, like my old neighbor Mr. Koontz's hips, but no. Most of the time I don't even remember it happened. But sometimes, you know, walking past a playground, or watching Mom debone a chicken, or for whatever reason, it kinda comes back, you know? Not exactly the pain but the fear of pain?"

Kurt frowned in concentration. "So, if I'm translating your analogy correctly, the swing is you, your fractured arm is my broken heart, and Blaine is the chicken."

Finn blinked. "Uh. Yes?"

"And I'm lashing out at you because I'm petrified that I'm going to make the same mistakes I've made before, or that Blaine will do things that will dramatically sour our friendship, as it happened to us last year."

Finn gave him a big smile. "See? You totally get me."

Kurt returned the smile more timidly. "I try. There are still things about you I find rather incomprehensible, though."

"Like what?"

"Never mind."

"No, what?"

Kurt shrugged and sipped his milk.

"Come on, Kurt. What?"

"Finn... you do realize that those fireworks with Quinn might end up causing major burns for a lot of people, don't you?"

Finn's smile vanished instantly. "You mean Sam."

"For starters. I was on the phone with him about half an hour ago, and he seemed convinced that he'll be taking Quinn as his date to Breadstix tomorrow."

"He probably will," Finn grumbled. "She hasn't decided to break up with him. Yet."

"What makes you think she will?"

"She's cheating on him with me. If she loved him, she wouldn't risk hurting him."

"She's cheated on you too," Kurt pointed out.

"Before. Things are different between us now. I can feel it."

"And just how do you feel walking a mile in Puck's boots?"

"Wait, what?"

"I know you've wondered what kind of person seduces a friend's girlfriend. Now you know the answer."

Finn looked grim. "It's different. Puck's been my friend since forever. I've known Sam for, like, five months."

"And hasn't he been your friend for those five months?"

"Not the same."

"Has he done anything to deserve being hurt by you?"

Finn started saying something, but shut his mouth and looked away.

Kurt's eyes widened. "Oh my... I'm so stupid! Of course he did something. He questioned your leadership!"

"That has nothing to do with it!" Finn protested.

"Really? And you're sure those fireworks weren't actually celebrating you getting one up on the guy who's been challenging you both on glee and on the football team?"

"Quinn was my girlfriend first, remember? Sam didn't even _exist _back then. So don't you _dare _say that what I have with her isn't real."

Finn was about to stand up when Kurt grasped his wrist, squeezing it just for a moment before letting go. "Finn, I just want you to realize that this could turn into a really messy fight inside the glee club, so I hope you're sure that what you're fighting for is really worth the consequences. Okay? I don't want you to get hurt. Especially because, apparently, being the older brother implies beating up the people who hurts my younger brother, and while I'm perfectly comfortable slaughtering whoever I have to with my razor-sharp words, I don't really enjoy the thought of inflicting physical violence."

Finn's lips quirked in a lopsided smile, and nodded.

"But, let me warn you, Finn Hudson. When you see Sam and Quinn together at Breadstix tomorrow night, you are not to cause any scenes. Make no mistake, I am not so opposed to violence that I won't kick your ass into next season if you do something to mess up my Lonely Hearts Club dinner."

Finn merely rolled his eyes and sipped his milk.

.

**7.**

"It was for charity, Mom!"

"Oh, is _that _what they're calling it nowadays?"

"I'm serious. The money goes to pay for the glee club's trip to Nationals."

Carole silenced her son by sticking a thermometer in his mouth. "First, I wouldn't call it charity if you're going to benefit from it yourself. Fund-raising, yes. Charity, not so much. Second, I'm sure there are other ways to raise funds that are far more effective, not to mention safer, than a kissing booth."

Finn garbled something unintelligible.

"Quiet. And third, just give me a break. You _are _a sweet, generous boy, but you did not come up with that scheme out of the goodness of your heart. And I'm surprised any of the teachers in that school could fall for that sorry excuse."

Finn pressed his head against the pillow, closing his eyes tightly.

"Honey, remember when you told me the thing you wanted the most in the world was a giant pool full of Skittles?"

"I wash zhust a 'ittle kidz..." said Finn around the thermometer.

"Hush... Remember what I told you then? About how that much candy would give you a tummy ache for sure?" Carole pushed her fingers through Finn's hair in a gentle caress. "And how after a while you'd get so fed up with Skittles, you wouldn't even want to see one ever again?"

Finn blushed a little and nodded.

"Anything you love won't be as enjoyable anymore if you don't treat it as something special. Kisses are to be treasured! If you kiss someone and you don't feel the butterflies in your stomach, and your heart doesn't try to jump out of your chest, and your head doesn't start spinning and your feet don't lift off the floor... oh, sweetie, then you're just not doing it right."

"Vireworgz?"

Carole smiled. "Yes. There needs to be fireworks. Lots and lots of them." She pulled out the thermometer from his mouth and checked it. "101°F. Well, it's come down a little bit. Still a long way to go, though. When I had mono, I couldn't drag myself out of bed for about three weeks. Let's hope you're luckier."

"You had mono?" Finn croaked. "But... you're a mom!"

Caroled giggled. "Moms aren't immune, you know. Especially when they're still young and careless and not moms yet."

"Here's the tea."

Carole and Finn turned to find Burt walking into the boy's room, carefully carrying a steaming mug with both hands. Finn made a face. "Ugh! Tell me that's not Kurt's green tea..."

"No, this is Kurt's honeysuckle flower tea," said Burt. "Only thing he'll drink when he has a sore throat. Apparently it's some Chinese millennial remedy, or something like that."

With a moody grunt and a lot of effort, Finn sat up on his bed, and received the mug from Burt's hands. He sniffed the liquid, and sent a pleading look to his mother.

"Come on, honey, give it a try," urged Carole. "Nothing better for a sore throat than drinking something warm."

A little sip, another grimace, and Finn tried the puppy-dog look on his stepfather instead.

Burt snorted. "Oh, you're getting no sympathy from me, kid. Not after fooling me into building that kissing booth for you."

"How could you lie to Burt like that?" asked Carole with a wounded tone.

"I didn't lie," Finn murmured.

"You said it was for the glee club," Burt pointed out.

"And it was."

Carole and Burt exchanged a wry look.

"It really was," Finn mumbled dejectedly.

"Even if I were buying that, which I'm not," said Burt seriously, "it doesn't change the fact that you _knew_ I thought it was some sort of prop for a musical or a play, and you let me go on thinking that."

"Still, not an _actual _lie..."

"Really? Because I remember asking you about that 'Kiss the Quarterback' sign, and you telling me about adapting _Friday Night Lights_ to musical theater."

Finn took a long drink of his tea without complaint.

"Okay, here I am to relieve you," announced Kurt as he barged into Finn's room, still in Dalton uniform minus the blazer, bringing another mug. "Time to go on your über-romantic date, whatever it is, so shoo!"

Carole eyed Finn with concern. "I don't know, maybe I should stay..."

"No, no, no, no!" Kurt took her by the hand and pulled her up and away from the bed. "Come on, I left my own Lonely Hearts Club dinner earlier just so you two could salvage at least _some _of the night. Now go, your respective outfits are waiting for you at the master bedroom. I selected them this morning before going to school. I've just laid them on the bed for you, so there's no confusion."

Burt hadn't moved. "Kurt, are you sure you can handle it? We don't _have _to go..."

"Yes, you do! You guys already missed your honeymoon because of one son, you're not going to miss Valentine's because of the other. Thanks to you, Dad, I have plenty experience taking care of grouchy patients. Besides, look at _that_ sorry picture." Kurt pointed unceremoniously at Finn. "Does he look strong enough to give me trouble?"

Finn tried to glare at Kurt, but even that came out a little weak.

Burt patted Kurt on the shoulder. "All right. Come on, Carole. If we run, we can still catch Carrieri's open."

As the couple left the room, Kurt sat at the end of the bed, next to Finn's feet, grinning broadly. "I missed you tonight, you know. When I said I didn't want you to cause a scene, I didn't mean I didn't want you to _be _there."

"Go on, you can say it," Finn muttered. "I know you want to. Say it. 'I told you so.' Go on."

"Finn Hudson, I'll let you know that my life isn't as bleak and devoid of personal successes that I would ever feel the need to take pleasure on your misery."

Finn relaxed a little, slumping against the headboard.

"However," Kurt went on, "just for the sake of your education, I will point out that yes, you would not be in this sad situation if you had just listened to my wisdom."

Finn sent him a baleful look. "You suck."

"Oh, come on... Aren't I here, to watch over and commiserate with you?" He raised his mug. "See, I even made some honeysuckle tea for myself as well!"

"Yeah, but I bet you actually _like_ this stuff."

Kurt shrugged. "It has a nice scent and a slight, pleasant sweetness to the palate."

Finn tried another sip, much reluctantly, and his grimace this time was just a little less emphatic than before.

Kurt breathed in the steam spiraling up from his mug, and took a drink as well. He smiled fondly at Finn. "I'm serious, you know. I'm not here to torment you. I'm sorry things didn't turn out as well as you hoped."

"Things did turn out as I hoped, actually," Finn retorted. "Up until Santana decided to meddle."

"So... what, that's your one regret? Letting Santana slip you the tongue and her germs and not even pay you for your trouble?"

"Pretty much," Finn shrugged.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! It was totally worth it." Finn smirked at his brother. "Hey, you should set up a kissing booth at Dalton."

Kurt was horrified. "Absolutely not!"

"Why not? You're telling me you wouldn't like to have hundreds of boys lining up to kiss you?"

"For starters, the boys at Dalton might be accepting, but that doesn't make them gay. Most of them wouldn't feel any more eager to kiss me than would, say, Artie or Mike."

"Blaine would come to your booth for sure."

"No, he wouldn't. Blaine would do his best to talk me out of it. And even if he did come to the booth... if he let me kiss him under the excuse of a social event... what would that mean? Charity? Friendship? Pity? Nothing? Why would I even want any more kisses devoid of feeling?"

"Any _more_...? Oh, you mean Brittany?"

Kurt gulped. "Yes. Brittany." He took a long sip of his tea.

"But what if Blaine showed up at your booth, you know, not expecting anything, just to do his duty and contribute to the fund-raising... and then the moment you kissed him, boom! Fireworks!"

"Finn... You and Quinn have a history together. And she kissed you, no booth or excuse, just a week ago. Blaine and I... we don't have that. And there's nothing romantic at all about a kissing booth. Money changing hands, a line of impatient people waiting for their turn... Sorry, I just fail to see the appeal."

"So you're saying you wouldn't have come to mine if I had set it up last year?"

Kurt opened his mouth for an instant reply, but closed it a moment later. He lowered his eyes, seeming deep in thought, and didn't speak for a long while. Then, finally, he let out a little giggle.

"What?" Finn prompted.

"I was going to say, no, of course not, no frigging way. But then I realized that... after all we've talked about this week... after your putting up with my less than cheerful mood... you've earned the right to an honest, thought-out answer to that, not just a knee-jerk reaction."

Finn nodded solemnly.

"And the truth is..." Kurt gave him a tight smile. "No. I wouldn't have."

"Oh. Okay."

"Not back then, I wouldn't. But I might have now."

Finn's eyebrows climbed to meet his hairline.

"I told you, Finn, back then I thought you were clueless about me. And while part of me dreamed that you would figure it all out and give me a chance and that we'd live happily ever after in a castle of silk and mother-of-pearl, a lot of the time I was petrified that you _would _figure it all out and... well... that you'd react the way you did when I redecorated the basement in the old house. So... sure, I'd have thought about it, probably daydreamed about it. But if I were to come out and risk rejection, I definitely wouldn't have done it in front of the whole school. Mostly I don't care about what people think or say of me. But that doesn't mean I'm a glutton for public humiliation."

"I wouldn't have..." Finn began.

"Last year, you'd have reacted as you always did when you feared you were about to lose popularity points. And even if your response weren't as bad as I imagine it'd have been... It would still be a kissing booth, Finn. Sure, it'd have been awesome if the school could see the star quarterback being that open-minded. But as far as romance goes... Even in the best case scenario, I'd still end up with a one-dollar worth of a kiss, nothing more. And that wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted you to see me and think of me as an option." Kurt's tone was frank and even warm, with no signs of bitterness of regret.

"But now...?"

Kurt shrugged. "There is absolutely no reason why a kissing booth should be gender-oriented. If you're going to sell your kisses with no regard to race, religion or oral health, it'd be discrimination to deny me service on the account of my gender or sexuality."

Finn blinked. Several times. "You'd come to my kissing booth to... make a statement?"

"Of course!"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Oh, we'd have long, heated arguments about it. Before, during, after, here at home and at school. And for what is worth, Dad would probably take your side, just like he did over my unsung duet with Sam. I know he wants me to be more careful not to offend heterosexuals' sensibilities. But there's a line, you know. I'm not going to hide in a corner just waiting for straight guys to finally realize that not all my dealings with the male sex are moved by romantic or lustful aspirations."

Finn arched an eyebrow. "Dude, it's a _kissing_ booth."

"Exactly. A kissing _booth_. That's about as romantic and lustful as last year's cupcake baking sale. So why should I not be allowed to go up there, hand you a dollar bill and get a kiss on my forehead?"

"Oh. Oh! On the forehead? I thought you meant..."

"Well, I think you _should _be ready to kiss a guy on the lips if he paid for it at a kissing booth. It's only fair."

"Some other guy, though. Not you?"

Kurt shuddered. "Who knows where that mouth of yours has been. Besides, if I ever get to kiss someone again, I want it to actually mean something. Not just my brother reluctantly giving into my pro-equality argument." He sipped his tea.

"Okay, kids, we're going."

The two boys raised their heads to see Burt and Carole at the threshold, he in a dark green dress shirt and gray woven wool trousers, she in a cobalt blue tweed dress and gray crochet scarf. Kurt looked at them up and down and nodded approvingly.

"You're sure you two can manage all by yourselves?" asked Burt.

"Yeah," said Finn, staring at Kurt with a mix of wonder and affection. "We're cool."

Carole turned to Kurt. "Please check his fever at every half an hour, and call me if it starts rising again. Or if any rashes appear. Or if there's any problem. Or if..." She sighed. "Just call me, okay?"

"Will do," Kurt promised. "Don't worry."

"And you, mister," she told Finn, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, "just rest and obey your brother. Try to come up with constructive things to do at home while you're grounded."

"Grounded? But, Mom..."

"Yes, grounded. As soon as you get better."

"Can't I serve my time while I'm sick?"

Carole patted his hand. "Nice try, sweetie."

"We shouldn't take long," said Burt.

"Yes, you should," Kurt retorted. "It's _Valentine's_ Day."

"Either way, it's also school night, so don't be up too late." Burt placed a gentle hand on his wife's back as they stepped out of the room.

"Don't forget your coats," Kurt called after them. "Not the nylon jacket, Dad!"

The couple was already too far away for Burt's moody grumble to be understood.

When Kurt turned back to Finn, his brother still kept on staring at him with the same amazed look.

"What?" Kurt prompted.

"We really _are_ cool, aren't we?" said Finn, as if only now realizing it.

Kurt winked at him. "Are you referring to our fabulousness as individuals, or to the relative peace in our relationship?"

Finn let out a chortle, regretting it immediately and raising his hand to circle his aching throat.

"Tea," Kurt reminded him.

Finn obeyed by having three more sips, and took a long breath before speaking again. "We still fight. Brothers do, I suppose. But that's the thing, we... we _can_ fight. Because we're brothers, so it's okay."

"Does that mean you're not afraid of me anymore?"

"I'm afraid you might burn my clothes or poison me with your healthy food," Finn admitted. "You can be a real... uh... well..." He shrugged. "Really, you can be a real _bitch _when you're pissed."

Kurt waved the insult away. "Guilty as charged."

"Other than that... I don't even know why I was so freaked."

Kurt gave him a little smile and patted his socked feet in a friendly gesture. "I believe you said I was 'intense'? Poor Finn. Between me, Rachel and Quinn, you seem to really attract 'intensity'."

Finn sighed. "Rachel came to see me in the infirmary today. After Quinn left."

"And...?"

"I broke up with her."

"Again?"

"I think she really understood we're done now."

"That's what you said last time."

Finn groaned something under his breath.

"No breakup presents this time around, I hope?" Kurt asked.

"I told her about Quinn."

"Your being with Quinn never stopped Rachel from pursuing you. Not even when we all thought Quinn's baby was yours."

"But I told her... about the fireworks."

"Oh."

"With Quinn. Not with her."

"Oh..."

"And then she thanked me."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "She did?"

"She said I gave her the strength to move on and that she was going to focus on her dreams and..."

"Right. I know how the rest of that speech goes."

"You don't think she means it?"

"I... I guess she _believes_ she does."

Finn sighed. "Anyway. Quinn told me to figure things out with Rachel, and I did. That's done."

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?"

Kurt toed off his shoes and stretched his legs on the bed, crossing them at the ankles. "I don't know, it's just peculiar, Rachel and you. It's not like you're really on and off, you're just always saying goodbye. Makes me think of a couple of sweethearts on the phone that goes from midnight to the first hours of the morning saying, 'You hang up first', 'No, you hang up first', 'No, you', and on and on and on."

Finn squeezed his eyes shut. "Could we not talk about Rachel? Please?"

Kurt smiled. "Fine. I did promise not to torment you, after all. What should we talk about instead? Mind you, it'd better be something I can discuss at length, because when I say 'talk', I actually mean 'I speak, you listen'. You have to give your throat a rest."

"Tell me what happened at your Valentine's-with-the-Warblers thing. Details. All the drama, the diva meltdowns, the Warbler oddities, the New Directions' craziness... Was there a glee-off?"

"Actually, it couldn't have gone any better. It totally exceeded my own expectations. The place was crowded, the diners were all very supportive — including those I didn't blackmail into going there to support me! And we did great, if I say so myself. I was pleasantly surprised, given how hard it was to convince the Warblers to fly off the nest and let loose for a change, and how tense rehearsals were. They wanted to practice every single interaction with the diners, prepare for every single eventuality, as if the thought of having to behave naturally and spontaneously absolutely terrified them. Really, I half expected them to act like shy little robots."

"Soulless automatons."

"Finn!" Kurt slapped him on the shins. "I do not believe you've just compared the Warblers to Vocal Adrenaline! That's like comparing..." He struggled to find a suitable comparison.

"Mogwais and gremlins?"

Kurt blinked. "So I'm only a late night snack short from turning into Jesse St. James?"

"No, I mean... the Warblers could _potentially_ become like Vocal Adrenaline... because they kinda have the whole wanting-to-be-super-perfect-and-precise thing going too... but they're better than that. They have _heart_." Finn grimaced. "Maybe they do multiply with water, though..."

"Finn, I beg you, don't you start with the monster-making fountain water again."

Finn smirked. "Wouldn't that be kinda cool, though? Toss one singer into the fountain and get a whole glee club..." His voice caught on his throat and he winced.

"You're supposed to be listening quietly, remember?"

With a little pout, Finn drank his tea without waiting to be told.

"Anywaaaay..." Kurt drawled. "As I was saying, rehearsals were long and detailed to the point of being a little manic. And there we were, performing the first song of the night, _Silly Love Songs_. The planned choreography would have us come down the stage during the bridge to walk around the tables and interact with the diners, and back when we were discussing this, the guys were so reticent... Wes kept saying it wasn't dignified, Trent said it was too cabaret, and if Blaine hadn't insisted on it with the persistence of a telemarketer, the idea would've been dismissed in the first voting round. Yes, because, you see, there were _four _voting rounds to decide _just that_."

Finn snickered.

"But when it was actually time to do it," Kurt went on, "I could barely recognize them. They were really _into_ it. They practically ran down to shake hands with the New Directions. And I mean 'shake hands' as a euphemism. Wes the Honorable Gavel Yielder practically _jumped_ onto Santana's lap."

"Hope he didn't kiss her."

Kurt snorted. "I don't think it went that far. A good thing, given the fact that he has a steady girlfriend. I don't know, I think it'd really ruin my image of him if I found out he was a cheater. He's so... proper! Anyway, I heard David tease him about it later, and Wes replied, with a completely straight face, that he was merely performing in character." Kurt stretched a little, trying to get more comfortable as he leaned back against the footboard. "David is one to talk, though. When we did Eagle Eye Cherry's _Save Tonight_, Mike got up to dance and David joined him, and the two practically_ waltzed_ all over the place."

Finn picked one of the many pillows stacked behind him and handed it to Kurt.

"Thanks," said Kurt, fluffing it a little before placing it at his back. "Of course, the weirdest moment was when we did _I'm a Believer_. We hadn't got to the first chorus yet when I realized I was the only one still following the choreography we had rehearsed. Everyone else was just running around and jumping up and down... I even overheard one of the diners compare us to monkeys!"

Finn's eyes widened, and he started laughing even as he winced due to the sore throat.

"What?" asked Kurt.

"The Monkees! The band, the Monkees! You know everything about music, how can you _not_ know the Monkees?"

Kurt looked a little affronted. "I do know who they are. What's that got to do with anything?"

"_I'm a Believer_! It's a Monkees' song."

"No, it's Neil Diamond's. It said so in the music sheet."

"Whatever, they recorded it. It's, like, one of their biggest hits. It's the most famous version of the song."

Kurt shrugged petulantly. "I'm more familiar with the one on the first _Shrek _movie myself."

"Are you serious? They played it in, like, every other episode of the TV show."

"I never watched the show."

"Why not? Their stuff is like the early Beatles, and you like the Beatles."

"They're _not_ like the Beatles. That's like saying a knockoff Gucci is like real Gucci!"

Finn rolled his eyes. "They're _not_ a knockoff. And you'd better not dis them around Mom, 'cause she's a fan. She has all the episodes and all."

"Three words for you," said Kurt, counting them off his fingers. "Acid. Washed. Jeans. I love Carole, but she's no great arbiter of good taste."

"Well, I'm sure she loves you too, even though you're a snob."

The two brothers glared at each other.

"So," said Finn eventually. "What else did you guys sing?"

Kurt let out a long breath. "_Pretty Woman._ We were supposed to come down the stage after the second verse, and each of us find a lady to sing to. I sang to Mercedes, Blaine sang to Rachel, Trent sang to Tina, David sang to Brittany, Thad sang to Jeanine the waitress..."

"Isn't she, like, super old?"

"Nick and Jeff were fighting for Zizes' attention, something that didn't please Puck. The others went farther back to sing to the other diners... and Santana looked pissed that there weren't enough guys singing to her."

"Hah!" Finn grinned, pleased.

"Things got considerably calmer when we did The Police's _Every Breath You Take_. Slow song, and we just stood together and sang, simple as that. I think Tina was tearing up a bit."

"She's been very... emotional this week," said Finn dryly.

"It was interesting to observe all the... _staring_ going on among the New Directions."

"Staring how?"

"Uh... Artie watching every breath Brit took, Mike watching every move Tina made, Puck watching every claim Zizes staked, Santana watching every word Brit said... to Artie... and Sam watching every smile Santana faked..."

"Sam was watching Santana?"

"Or Santana was watching him... or maybe it was nothing and I was just too focused on the lyrics. It's hard for me to just stand in place and sing, you know? I keep wanting to _perform _the words. Even if I'm just doo-wopping in the background."

Finn nodded.

"We also did _Teenage Dream_ and all the songs we performed at Sectionals. And, oddly enough, our encore was _When I Get You Alone_."

"Wasn't that...?"

"The song we serenaded Mr. Gap with? Yes."

"And Blaine was okay with it?"

"It was his own suggestion, actually. Believe me, I was surprised too. But he said we did such a good job of it at the store, it'd be a shame not to include it in the program. I don't know, maybe he wanted to link it to better memories?" Suddenly, Kurt let out a little giggle. "At least I managed to convince him not to climb on the tables this time around."

Finn raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Blaine has a... thing," Kurt explained. "For jumping onto the furniture while he performs. Tables, chairs, benches, sofas... I even saw him walk on the keys of a piano once." His smile vanished. "I might have slapped him on the back of his head then."

Finn snorted.

"Mangling of musical instruments aside, it's usually sort of cute. But I don't think those people would want to eat on those tables after he'd danced on them, no matter how pristine clean he keeps his shoes. Anyway... after the performance, the two glee clubs sat down and ate together, mostly peacefully."

"Mostly?"

"Thad ended up at Sam's table and they seemed to be hitting it off, but then their conversation got a little _too _animated... I couldn't quite hear them over the general ruckus of too many glee clubbers in one space, but I think they were talking about, uh... mountain banshees?" Kurt shrugged. "I'm not sure they were speaking entirely in English. But they got to an agreement soon enough, or so it seemed. Meanwhile, Nick and Jeff were having what appeared to be a very deep conversation with Brittany and Artie about bullfighters and bullfinches, David and Mike talked sneakers, and Wes told Mercedes, Rachel and Tina... and me, I should say... the history of the evolution of the Dalton uniform. I must say, that _was_ fascinating. Short on the evolution per se, given that the uniform hasn't gone through that many changes over the decades, but rich on the significance of every detail and fabric option. Sadly, it was getting late and I needed to get home, so I had to leave before he got to the point when the pants went from cadet gray to battleship gray."

"You're falling in love."

"What?"

"With the Warblers. With Dalton. Your new friends. You're falling in love with your new life."

Kurt gazed at Finn in surprise, a ghost of sadness shadowing his eyes.

"It's not a bad thing," Finn reassured him. "I mean... I wouldn't want for you to be there and be miserable and friendless. You transferred there so you could be happy. Are you?"

"I... I don't know."

Finn smiled. "Getting there, then?"

Kurt twitched his lips, trying not to smile back. "I might be. Maybe. They _are_ sort of adorable. With their own peculiar and... fussy brand of charm."

"Warbling monkeys," Finn snickered, poking Kurt's side with a gentle kick.

Kurt kicked back. "Shut up."

**###**

**A/N:** The Warblers' set list was taken from my own playlist of a capella songs:  
><em>I'm a Believer <em>(YouTube: watch?v=-bSbn1elTpQ) by The Other Guys  
><em>Every Breath You Take <em>(YouTube: watch?v=dDG4z1A9yKU) by The Other Guys  
><em>Pretty Woman<em> (YouTube: watch?v=b4xZgGu6F4E) by Rockapella  
><em>Save Tonight<em> (YouTube: watch?v=Wpvj3WmaVj8) by unknown artists. (If you recognize this version, please let me know who the performers are.)


	5. Of Artistry and Overstepping

**A/N:** I calculate the number of days depicted in each episode by studying how many changes of clothes the characters go through. In _Comeback_, it seems to me that the editor altered the scripted order of certain scenes, causing some bizarre continuity errors in that regard. When that happened, I arbitrarily determined what-happened-in-which-day accordingly to my own convenience. ^_^

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Of Artistry and Overstepping<strong>

**1.**

"We were at a loss at first, you know, but Artie found this song that kind of has a slightly less ballad-y vibe, sort of a weird hybrid of Yes and Supertramp…"

"_Sweet Dreams_?" Finn smiled.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, that's the one. So Sam and Artie reworked the arrangement, and added a stronger bit so I could dance to it, and that was our number."

"Cool! Who else?"

Mike clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned back on the couch. "Mercedes killed it with _I Can Wait Forever_. She really turned it into something else, half the club was in tears by the end. Brittany and Santana sang _Just as I Am_... and I really did not expect Santana to do so well with this kind of repertoire, but wow... They made the lyrics sound much deeper than they really are."

"My god, what about Puck?" asked Finn. "What did he come up with? That's so not his style..."

"Puck has changed, man!" said Mike with a laugh. "He picked up the guitar and dedicated _Every Woman in the World_ to his muse, Lauren Zizes."

"Dude, that's getting serious. Like, seriously serious."

"I know. Although I'm pretty sure he changed the lyrics here and there. But the worst part? Ms. Zizes was not impressed. At all." Mike clucked his tongue. "I'm starting to feel sorry for the guy."

Finn shook his head in sorrow. "I cannot _believe_ Mr. Schue assigned Air Supply to the club when I'm home sick," Finn moaned. "That's so not fair."

"That's what Rachel said, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, today, before her performance. She wanted us to understand that the only reason why she waited until the very last day of the assignment to show us her interpretation was not because she needed that much time to prepare, but because she wanted to give you as much time as possible to recover and play the drums while she belted out _Making Love Out of Nothing At All_."

Finn frowned. "Oh. Well. The drums part at the end is kinda dramatic, when it goes a little wild while the piano marks the beat. But... that's not what I meant."

"I know. Anyway, Travis, the jazz band drummer? I don't think he enjoyed the slight. I've never seen him play so _loud_. I could barely hear Rachel's voice, and that's saying something."

"That's... impressive. I can't imagine..."

"Quinn is back already, you know," said Mike abruptly.

"Yeah." Then Finn seemed to catch himself. "I mean, yeah? Is she, now?"

"Today was her first day back."

"Well. Good for her."

"Her voice is still recovering, but she sang _Lost in Love_ with Tina."

"Cool."

"I think most of us expected Quinn to sing _Goodbye _and dedicate it to Sam, though."

Finn's eyes widened, but he lowered his head quickly to disguise it. "Hmm?"

"You know," said Mike, before starting to sing:

.

"_I don't want to let you down,  
>I don't want to lead you on...<em>"

.

"I know the song," Finn interrupted. "And I'm pretty sure those aren't the right notes."

"Those are the right words, aren't they?"

Finn shrugged. "I guess."

"Sam is a really nice guy, you know."

Now Finn turned to stare at Mike straight in the eyes. "I know. So is Artie."

Mike was taken aback. "Wha-what?"

"I'm just saying. If you're about to give me advice, I'd like to make sure it's not the kind of advice that ends up with 'Do as I say and not as I did at Asian camp last summer'."

Mike sat up stiffly, folding his arms over his chest. "Okay. Fine. Forget I said anything."

Finn still kept a wary eye on him. "Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about. I think Quinn could have sung _I Want to Give It All_. It'd sound great in her voice, and it'd be like her back-to-school song. You know. '_Here I am again, I've come to see you smile..._'"

"'..._And still you're waiting here, just waiting for my call..._'," Mike continued, this time reciting instead of singing. "Yeah, I guess that one's appropriate too."

Light footsteps preceded Carole's entrance in the living room. "Hey, boys. I'm about to start on dinner. Are you staying, Mike?"

"Thanks, Mrs. H, but I need to go." Mike picked up his book bag and jumped up from the couch.

"You're sure? It'd be no trouble."

"My mom is waiting for me. It's _ho jip zing tin gai_ night."

Carole blinked. "I see. Is that a good thing?"

"It's a great thing," Mike assured her. "I mean, who _doesn't_ like frog legs?"

Finn sent his mother a queasy look. Carole bit back an amused smile.

Mike reached out with his arm towards Finn, his hand closed in a fist. "Take care, man. The club needs its captain."

Finn gave him a fist-bump. "Thanks, man."

Mike started turning towards the door, but then ended up doing a 360° spin, almost as gracefully as if it had been a deliberate dance move. "Oops, almost forgot. The very reason why I came." He unzipped his bag and fished a bunch of papers from inside, setting them on the coffee table in front of Finn.

"You don't have to keep bringing me your class notes, Mike."

"It's no trouble, really."

"No, I mean, you _really _don't have to bring me your class notes," said Finn, eyeing with a discouraged look the dismally tall pile of papers.

"Well, Kurt asked me to."

Finn blinked. "He did?"

"Yep. Photocopy my notes and bring them over every day while you're sick. He also asked me to get from Artie and Mercedes all the notes from the classes you and I don't have together. And to make sure that I let everyone else in the glee club know about the arrangement, casually but decisively." Mike shrugged. "I'm not sure how casual you can be when you're being decisive, but I did my best."

Finn frowned at that, but before he could say anything, Mike was already by the door, saying goodbye to Carole. So he just stared at the notes on the coffee table for a little while, then took the corner of the first page between his fingertips, as if trying to keep physical contact to a minimum, and flipped it over, finding the back also covered with the same neatly round handwriting that crammed the front.

With a sigh and a shrug, Finn pushed the whole pile aside and picked up the TV remote.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Carole interjected as she came back into the room. "I think you have a lot of homework ahead of you, mister."

"I have time."

"No, you don't. You're going back to school tomorrow."

Finn gaped at the news. "But... but I still feel weak..."

"Honey, half an hour ago I saw you lift the couch on your own to pick a piece of popcorn that had rolled under it."

"And after all that effort you didn't even let me eat it," he grumbled.

"Haven't we had enough conversations lately about being careful of what you put in your mouth?" she asked wryly. "That's how you got sick after all."

"Mom!" Finn whined, mortified.

"Maybe you could ask Kurt to give you a hand with your homework," she suggested. "And by that I mean help you understand your friends' notes, not do your work for you."

"He wouldn't go for that anyway."

"Oh, so you tried before?"

"What? No! I mean... He always has, like, a ton of homework himself. And I think half of it is in Latin or something. So he really doesn't have time to help me at all."

"I'm sure if you ask him nicely..."

"Can't I stay home another day? Please?"

"No."

"But, Mom..."

"Don't you miss your friends? And glee club?"

Finn slumped on the couch, dejectedly. "I do. It's just... if only school was just glee club. And sports. I mean, why do I need to know if Columbus was on the Niña, the Pinta or the Santa Fe when he discovered America? Or what Shakespeare wrote about the French Revolution, or how the centerpifugal force affects a ball of cotton and a ball of adamantium dropped at the same time from the Golden Gate Bridge? And really, if I ever need to find out the square root of x raised to the second power, I'll just use the calculator in my cell phone."

Carole's eyes widened in consternation. "I'll talk to Kurt myself. If he's too busy, I'm getting you a tutor."

Finn's misery seemed to only deepen at that.

They heard the sound of keys opening the front door.

"Okay, okay, I'll ask him, okay?" said Finn urgently. "Please, let _me _talk to him about it. Can't have _my mom_ do it, it's too embarrassing."

"He's family, sweetie."

"Mom, please!"

"Wow, Mr. Sickly sure is demanding today," said Kurt amusedly as he stepped into the living room, carrying his messenger bag and loosening the scarf around his neck. "Hi, Carole."

"Hi, how was school?"

"A little tiring," he sighed. "I confess I'm still not entirely used to having to pay so much attention in English class. So what is Finn begging for now? Chicken soup? Ice cream?"

"Nothing," said Finn testily.

"Actually..." began Carole.

Finn sent her a pleading look.

She smirked. "He was asking me to go back to school tomorrow. He really misses it."

Kurt blinked, staring back and forth between them. "Is that true?"

Finn gaped at his mom.

"He was just telling me how much he misses glee."

"Uh... yeah," Finn stuttered. "They did Air Supply this week."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "You're bummed because of... Air Supply? Really?"

Carole pointed a warning finger at her stepson."There'll be no mocking of Air Supply around me. I'll let you know they were my biggest allies when Finn was little."

"Mom, don't..." Finn moaned.

"How so?" asked Kurt, curious.

"Finn was such a fussy baby at night," she said, beaming down at the tall boy who was now hiding his face behind his hands. "During the day he was all smiles and giggles and he'd entertain himself for hours just playing with his own tiny fingers and toes. But at night he'd cry and cry and cry, and it'd drive me crazy. Until I found out that all I had to do was sing _Even the Nights Are Better_, and he'd go completely quiet, just staring at me and listening."

"Aww," Kurt cooed.

"Shut up," Finn muttered.

Carole giggled. "Anyway, I need to start on dinner. Burt should be home soon, and if there's no food at the table he'll be too tempted to scrounge the house for snacks his doctors wouldn't approve."

"I'll help you," Kurt offered, unhooking the bag from his shoulder.

"No need. You're tired and... well... you and Finn should... you know... talk."

Finn glared at his mom. She merely smiled and headed towards the kitchen.

Kurt sent a suspicious look at Finn. "What do we need to talk about?"

"Nothing. Nothing in particular. We always talk after school, don't we?"

"I suppose. Should I get the milk?"

Finn shook his head. "Nah. After dinner."

"Okay." Kurt set his bag on the end table beside the armchair that faced the couch. "So how was your day?"

"Normal."

Kurt waited for more, but nothing came. "Okay." He sat down on the armchair, clasping his hands over his crossed legs. "Well, if you have nothing to say to me, I have something to say to you."

"Yeah? What?"

"I need your help. I need to find the perfect gift for Quinn."

"Uh... it's not her birthday. Is it?" Finn frowned. "No, I'm pretty sure it isn't. So why are you...?"

"It shouldn't be too extravagant, but it can't be too impersonal either. Something nice and elegant that says, 'Thank you for saving my brother from choking on a gumball'."

A coughing fit took over Finn and tinted his cheeks bright red.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "If you want, I can go over there and perform the Heimlich maneuver, but don't expect me to give you CPR. I hope you understand you'll still be contagious for several months now."

"Dude, who told you about the gumball?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Who _didn't_ tell me about the gumball?"

"What did you tell them?" Finn sent a worried glance towards the kitchen as he leaned over and hissed, "Dude, no one can know how Quinn and I really got mono. What did you say?"

"There was nothing _to_ say, Finn, mainly because all the people who talked to me about it had already guessed about you and Quinn on their own. Face it, the cat is out of the bag now, and not even a whole barrel of gumballs is going to lure it back in."

"Sam doesn't know," Finn countered. "He totally bought the gumball story."

Kurt eyed his brother closely. "Is that smugness I see in your face?" He shook his head in disgust. "Haven't you learned _anything_?"

"Learned?" Finn echoed, annoyed. "Learned what?"

"Oh, I don't know! Poor Sam, being so blinded by his feelings for Quinn that he'd believe this gumball nonsense? It reminds me a little of some _other_ poor boy who was also so blinded by his feelings for this _same_ girl that he fell for an equally unbelievable lie about spermatozoids making it through swimsuits in a hot tub. Does that ring any bells?"

"Why do you keep bringing that up? It's not the same thing!"

"Do you remember how it felt later? When you found out the truth? How embarrassed you were? Do you really wish that on anybody else?"

"Kurt, I'm telling you now, you need to stop butting into my life."

"I am _not_..."

"Yes, you are!"

"I can't help having an opinion on..."

"You can help throwing your opinions at my face all the frigging time! You can and you should!"

Kurt folded his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly insulted. "Fine. I'll keep my thoughts to myself, then."

"You do that. And while you're at it, do the same with your actions."

"Excuse me?"

"Wanna tell me what's this about you telling Mike to bring me his class notes? You're not my mom, dude!"

Kurt growled under his breath. "You really don't get it, do you? _Someone _would have brought you their class notes. I merely asked Mike to do it — and suggested that he made sure everyone knew he was doing it — to make sure that _someone_ wouldn't use this as a lame excuse to visit poor little sickly you."

Finn blinked. "Wait. You mean Rachel? You did this so Rachel wouldn't..."

Kurt shrugged. "It's a ploy _I_ could have come up with, so it's a safe bet that the thought would have crossed her mind too."

"You don't need to protect me from Rachel," said Finn angrily. "I can handle her."

"Who says I did it for you? I was trying to honor my pledge as a member of the DDTTCC."

"The... what?"

"Divas Devoted To Their Colossal Careers. It's an alliance formed by Rachel, Mercedes and myself in which we sworn off romantic aspirations for the time being so we could focus our heart and energies on improving our skills as performers." Kurt tilted his head, a weary look on his face. "I don't particularly like the name, but Mercedes likes the double-letter thing, so we needed an adjective starting with C, and 'colossal' was all I could think of. Rachel said she would go through all the C entries in the dictionary to find a better word, but that was almost two weeks ago. I don't know if she gave up or just forgot about it."

"So... uh... the three of you have, like, a club... to keep each other from going after love?"

"Well. In a manner of speaking, yes."

Finn sat back on the couch, all signs of hostility vanishing from his body language. "I don't think I'd want to be in a group like that. I mean... maybe I just don't care enough about improving my skills. Rachel and Quinn are always complaining that I'm not ambitious enough. But it's so good to, like, have someone. _Be_ with someone. Swearing it off... it sounds so lonely."

"It _is_ lonely." Kurt smiled sadly. "The group makes it just a little less so."

The boys fell into contemplative silence. From the kitchen they could hear Carole opening cupboards and handling utensils and cheerfully singing _Keeping the Love Alive_ just slightly off-key.

.

"_Both of us holding back, so afraid  
>To fall in love and lose again.<br>We've both been hurt before,  
>Saw love walk out the door<br>In the end._"

.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to ask you something."

"As long as it's not my opinion."

"It's not."

"Fine. Ask away."

Finn kept staring down at the papers on the coffee table. "Would you...?"

"...what?"

Finn opened his mouth again, but the words just wouldn't come out. Finally, he shook his head and asked instead, "What would you have sung if Mr. Schue had assigned us Air Supply when you were still in the group?"

Kurt took only a few seconds to think of an answer. "_Chances_."

Finn looked up at Kurt, surprised. "That's... that's a sad song."

"Yes," Kurt sighed. "I suppose it is. But it has six long bars of holding a high B at the end."

"Is that high?"

"Unremarkable for a countertenor, but in this case it's the act of sustaining it firmly through several chord changes that makes it powerful. And I just know I could make it very poignant and soul-stirring," said Kurt matter-of-factly as he got on his feet. "I'm going upstairs to change. You probably should..." He stopped himself, retracting the hand he had used to point to the papers on the coffee table. "Never mind. No more opinions from me."

After Kurt left the room, Finn spent a good ten minutes just sitting there, completely still but for his right index finger, which tapped a slow rhythm on the arm of the couch. Finally, he started singing under his breath.

.

"_There's a chance you will be there  
>Wondering what to do.<br>How to play my role?  
>I'll leave it up to you.<br>If I disguise my smile,  
>It gives too much away.<br>What if we can't speak?  
>What then shall I say?<br>Don't you be too long,  
>Something has gone wrong.<br>The chances are all gone._"

.

Finn turned a worried frown towards the corridor where Kurt had disappeared through, then shook his head and gave the pile of notes a despondent look. "I don't even remember taking half of these classes..."

.

**2.**

"I can't believe I'm in the dog house again!"

_"You're not in the dog house, Kurt."_

"Of course I am! Did you see the way Wes was staring at me?" Kurt paced furiously in his bedroom, pressing his cell against his ear. "He was one gavel bang short from sentencing me to forced labor in a sweatshop in Antarctica!"

_"Well, you need to understand, Wes is really big on sportsman attitude and respecting the adversary. Calling one of the glee clubs we're going to be up against 'a bunch of cheating sycophants'... That's really strong language, you know."_

"I was merely stating the facts, Blaine. Last year, Aural Intensity found out who the judges were beforehand and prepared a set list catered specifically for those judges."

_"I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with trying to please the judges..."_

"A mash-up of Olivia Newton-John and Josh Groban! Guess who the judges were!"

_"While I admit that that might be taking it too far, it could have easily misfired anyway. Some artists can be harder when judging cover versions of their own works. The very fact that Aural Intensity didn't win perhaps..."_

"That's not the point! Yes, being cheating sycophants might have played against them in the end, but it doesn't change the fact that they _are _cheating sycophants."

_"As Thad pointed out, even though the Show Choir Rule Book states that the names forming the judges' panel shouldn't be revealed before the competition, it doesn't actively say that competitors are forbidden to conduct their own investigations to find out who the judges are."_

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt huffed, sitting down at the foot of his bed. Then, mimicking Thad's stiff tone, he quoted, "'Neither does it prescribe any sort of punishment for either competitors or judges found in noncompliance with the implied secrecy stipulation.' So there's a loophole. It still doesn't make it _right_. I'm surprised the Warbler council finds that less offensive than my 'strong language'."

Blaine's voice sounded amused. _"I think their point is that there's nothing we can do about it. So why waste energy badmouthing our opponents when we should be working on our own set list?"_

But Kurt was still grumpy. "Or maybe _we_ should find out who the judges are and engage in some pandering ourselves, since it's totally by the book. Apparently, that's all that matters."

_"Kurt..."_

"You know, Rod Remington never misses a competition, so how about we arrange an a capella version of the _WOHN News_ theme?"

_"Well, why not? There're tons of a capella versions of TV show themes out there..."_

"Blaine!"

_"But if we're going down the TV news route, there's some stuff from CNN that is much cooler. You think there's any chance Anderson Cooper could be a judge at Regionals?"_

"Fine, make a joke out of it. As long as it's just a joke. Because I can't imagine that you'd truly be willing to sell out your artistry just to win a competition."

_"Do you really think it's selling out?"_

"You don't? What happens to self-expression when all you're expressing is what someone else wants to see and hear?"

_"I think it's still there. For example, I could maybe sing _You Were Meant for Me_ to you, just because I know how much you love that scene in _Singin' in the Rain_, but I'd still be expressing my own... uh..."_

Kurt's eyes widened. "What?" he whispered.

_"Hm. Sorry. Bad example."_ Blaine sounded flustered. _"What I meant to say was that artistry is in the performance, in how you carry it out, in how you interpret the original material, in how you turn it into something that could only have come from you. Whether the public you're targeting has an affinity with the original material or not is inconsequential."_

"Inconsequential," Kurt repeated. "Right. _Of course _you would dismiss your public's feelings of affinity."

_"Wait, what?"_

"Never mind. I still don't think pandering to the judges' panel is a valid tactic. And if Aural Intensity plays the same trick this time around, Wes can stare at me with his disapproving eyes until the end of days, because I will _not _pretend to respect them."

Blaine let out a soft chuckle. _"Okay..."_

"And I will keep on saying that we need to work harder than ever now. Because with both Aural Intensity and the New Directions in our bracket, we have _two _clubs with really good chances of beating us. And I am _not_ missing the plane to New York when Nationals come, you can write that down."

_"Kurt... not missing... the plane... to... New... York. Okay, got it."_

Kurt snorted. "You did not really write it down."

_"I did. On a post-it. And now I'm putting it on my mirror."_

"Liar."

_"Hold on."_

A few moments later, Kurt heard a buzz and checked his phone's screen. There was an incoming message... from Blaine. Quickly brushing his index finger on the touchscreen, he opened it, finding only a picture. It showed a smiling Blaine holding up his own cell phone, and on the foreground a little square paper with words scrawled on it entirely in capital letters.

Kurt laughed and pressed the phone to his ear again. "Neon pink post-its, Blaine?"

_"Too gay?"_

"I guess I was expecting the very traditional _canary_ yellow, Blaine Warbler."

_"There's more to me than being a Warbler, you know."_

"Oh, really?"

_"Yeah, really. You know I'm interested in football, and nineteenth century English literature, and civil rights politics, and..."_

"Anything I don't know?"

_"As a matter of fact... I'll have you know I'm the proud owner of a beautiful collection of vintage movie posters."_

"I didn't know that. I've been to your house and didn't see any posters."

_"Well, I don't keep them around, some of them are really old and valuable, they need to be protected from direct light, humidity, heat, critters... I've set them up in display racks in a special room. I don't think even Wes and David have ever seen them."_

"Wow. How very secretive."

_"I will show them to you, if you want. Next time you're here, I'll take you to my special room and show you my posters."_

Kurt breathed in sharply. "Uh, Blaine?"

From the other end of the line came a rather undapper squeak. _"No, that's not... I didn't mean... You're right, I shouldn't show you the posters. Uh, no, that's not what I meant either. I'd love to show you the posters. But I shouldn't say that I want to show you the posters... even if I do... although... actually..."_

"Blaine?"

_"Yes?"_

"It's okay. I know what you meant. And what you didn't mean."

_"Oh."_

"Yeah."

_"I'm really bad at this, aren't I?"_

"Impressively so, yes."

_"I'm sorry."_

"It's fine. I admit it's actually a little funny to see you sweat like this."

Blaine snickered. _"Well, glad my struggles at least serve to amuse you."_

The door, which had been ajar, was pushed open, and Finn's head appeared in the threshold. "Hi?"

Kurt waved him in. "Blaine, I have to go. Finn is here."

_"Enjoy your milk."_

"See you tomorrow."

_"We still on for Sullivan after class?"_

"Sure."

_"Fantastic. Bye."_

Kurt hung up and took one of the mugs Finn had brought with him. "Thanks."

Finn sat down on the bed at Kurt's right. "So how are things going with Blaine?"

"Okay. I think he's finally cluing in to the flirting."

"Whose flirting? I thought you had decided on being just friends."

"_His_ flirting. The way he constantly keeps throwing his charm around, and the ways that can be so easily misconstrued."

"So you mean he's still, like, accidentally flirting with you?"

"Yes. And not just me. Now that I've removed my tea rose-tinted glasses, I can see he's actually rather indiscriminate with his suave manners."

"He's like a gay preppy Puck, then."

Kurt frowned. "A clueless gay preppy Puck, maybe. And thanks. You've just made Blaine about seventy percent less appealing to me with that one remark."

"Uh, you're welcome?" Finn shrugged. "I still say he's an idiot."

Kurt smirked and took a sip of his milk. "So... Aural Intensity again, huh?"

Finn gave him an irritated look. "You know, that's not fun! What am I supposed to talk to you about when I get home if Mercedes has already texted you with all the McKinley news of the day?"

Kurt smiled fondly at his brother. "Your jealousy is so very endearing, but, at this time, a little misplaced. I'm assuming you guys got the same letter we did? From the Ohio Show Choir Committee?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, Aural Intensity and anthems."

"Right."

"The Warblers are not short on anthems in their traditional repertoire, but Blaine and some of the others are pushing for something new." Kurt shrugged. "And I tell you that with no fear of committing treasonous over-sharing, because, really, at this point? Things could go either way."

Finn nodded. "Yeah, we... well... we've started working on the anthem thing, too. Sam suggested something. I didn't like it, though."

Kurt bit back a smile. "I see."

Finn rolled his eyes. "It's not because it was Sam. It was a stupid suggestion, period."

"I didn't say anything," said Kurt defensively.

"You don't even have to. You have, like, super butting-in powers."

"Well, did the others like Sam's suggestion?"

"The girls did."

"Yeah, I suspected that. I mean, Mercedes texted me that Sam had done 'something unexpectedly hot' today... those were her words... but when I asked her to elaborate, I got a message from Rachel saying she had temporarily confiscated Mercedes' phone as they were not 'at liberty to discuss strictly confidential battle plans with the enemy'... Rachel's words."

Finn growled under his breath, drinking his milk.

"Well, I am not going to offer my opinion," stated Kurt firmly. "But perhaps I can mention the definition of the word 'anthem'?"

Finn gazed at him out of the corner of the eye. "Okay..."

"We're not talking of church music here, of course. We're talking about the modern-day definition of anthem as a composition that is inspiring and motivating, often but not necessarily self-aggrandizing, with a celebratory connotation. It has to appeal to people's notion of unity. It needs to grasp people's hearts and make them want be part of a bigger whole, and celebrate what this bigger whole is capable of accomplishing. As such, it definitely has to appeal to the masses."

"The masses?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's, like, all kinds of people, right?"

"Right."

"Right. So the masses are not just, you know, people who are 12 and stupid."

Kurt blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." Finn huffed. "I can't talk to you about any of this."

Kurt still looked confused, but gave in with a nod. "Of course. I'm the enemy now."

"You're not the enemy. You're just... on the other side."

"Still, Rachel is right, if overdramatizing the situation. We should not be swapping our glee clubs' secrets."

"Yeah..."

"So... what are we going to talk about?"

They drank the rest of their milk in silence.

.

**3.**

"_This is Quinn Fabray. You know what to do._"_ BEEP._

"Hey, it's me. I was thinking, we should do something Friday night. Like, a movie, or go bowling. Can't be dinner, because Burt and my mom insist on these family dinners every Friday... but hey, we can have dessert at Chloe's Cupcakes, or go to the ice cream parlor by the park... I mean, we always have dessert after Friday night dinner, usually something Kurt prepared the night before... but I don't mind eating two desserts. You can never have too much dessert, right?" Finn checked his watch, and sighed. "Anyway. Call me."

He hung up and dropped the cell phone on the bed, glaring at it.

"You know, I _was_ planning to make a triple berry cobbler for Friday, but maybe I should just skip it."

Finn raised his eyes to find Kurt smirking evilly at him, his hands on his hips. "Remember that thing about not butting into my life? It kind of includes not listening to my private conversations."

"You were not conversing, you were trying to get Quinn to call you back. Again."

"Dude!"

"Merely stating the facts. No opinions."

"So that's how you want it? Fine! Hi, Kurt! How was your date with Blaine?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know very well that it wasn't a date."

"Yeah, right. You just went ice skating together. Not romantic at all."

"Well, it wasn't. We knew there'd be no rehearsal today because all the seniors had to attend a lecture from the headmaster, so we decided to hang out at the Sullivan Rink. It was the Oldies-But-Goldies Matinee, which for some reason meant alternating songs from the fifties and the eighties, with some Rascal Flatts and Crystal Bowersox thrown in to make it even more baffling." Kurt shrugged. "Anyway, we skated and had coffee, and also pretzels, after much insistence from him. And we talked. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a friendly..."

"Oh, 'friendly'!" Finn echoed with a mocking tone.

"It was!"

"Uh-huh. So, no holding hands or anything like that."

"No, no holding hands, nothing like... Well. Actually, there was _some_ hand-holding, but not in the way that you think. We were playing, you know. One would drag the other by the hand for a while, gain speed and then let go. And we did some twirling and spinning together. You know. What's the point of ice skating if you don't play a little?"

"I don't know, man, I went ice skating with Puck sometimes..."

"Hah! See? Friendly."

"...and we never twirled or spun or held hands for whatever reason."

"Yes, because Puck probably had you convinced that your genitals would turn female if you ever held another boy's hand."

Finn scowled. "Well, okay, yes. But that's not the point."

"I can't possibly imagine what your point is, Finn. You know very well that there's nothing going on between Blaine and me. You're just being hurtful."

"And you know very well that there _is_ something going on between me and Quinn. She probably just... misplaced her cell, or something. So_ you_ are being hurtful too."

Kurt was silent for a moment. "All right. I'm sorry. How about a mutual non-butting-in policy, then?"

"Deal."

Finn reached out with his hand, and Kurt shook it.

"So, did you have fun? With your friend Blaine?" At Kurt's narrowed gaze, Finn amended, "What? That's a legitimate non-butting-in question."

Kurt sighed, crossing the room to take a seat on the recliner. "Yes, Finn. We had fun. Despite the DJ."

"Did you guys fall a lot?" asked Finn with a lopsided smile.

"I happen to be a very decent skater."

"And a boring storyteller."

"Not my fault if you only enjoy physical comedy," Kurt grunted. "Fine, we slipped a few times."

"How many?"

"Two for me. Eight for him."

Finn grinned. "Blaine is a lousy skater," he sang childishly.

"He's just... excessively enthusiastic. Oh, quit the giggling. You're one to talk anyway. You did not fare so well at April's roller rink either, if my memory serves me right."

"Hey, I can skate. It's stopping that it's a little hard."

"Yeah. Very hard on your behind, I'm sure."

Finn tossed a pillow at Kurt, who grabbed it easily before it could disturb his hair.

"I'm not sure I like skating," said Finn with a little shrug. "When you're not falling or seeing other people fall, it's kinda dull."

"Well, Blaine wouldn't agree. He wants us to go again soon. Sullivan now has sessions with bumper cars on Friday evenings and Sunday matinees, and Blaine is just dying to try them. He can be such a boy sometimes..."

"Whoa, bumper cars? Seriously?"

Kurt snorted. "Speaking of boys..."

"That is so cool!" Finn frowned in thought. "And it's perfect too. Kurt, you gotta promise me you guys won't go this Friday."

"Why?"

"Because I'm taking Quinn, and I'm not ready to go on a double date with my brother."

"Since I'm not dating Blaine and you're not dating Quinn, I don't think that'll be much of a problem."

Finn's eyes widened. "Dude! Didn't we just make a deal about that? Like, five minutes ago?"

"And didn't you just break it yourself? Like, five seconds ago? I'm not going to keep my end of the bargain if you don't keep yours."

They glared at each other for a little while, until Finn looked away with a growl. "Okay. Sorry. I slipped, that's all."

"Just like skating, stopping is what's a little hard, right?" Kurt stood up and moved back towards to door. "Well, if you really do go to the ice rink this week, do me a favor, okay? Take a look around, see what the girls are wearing."

"Are you crazy? I can't go out with Quinn and look at other girls. She'll bite my head off."

"I'm not talking about checking them out. Just give them a casual glance. If you can, count how many of them are wearing armwarmers."

"Armwarmers?"

"Yes. Like legwarmers, only on their arms. Apparently, it's the new trend in town and I'm more than a little puzzled. It's not a look I've seen in any fashion site or magazine."

Finn frowned. "You mean those wool sleeves without sweaters? Yeah. I think all the girls in school are wearing them. Well, not Rachel."

"Rachel wouldn't be able to spot a fashion trend if it hit her on the head." Kurt snorted as he stepped out of the room.

.

**4.**

"Kurt, would you like to go out on a date at Color Me Mine?"

Kurt choked on his milk, doubling over in a coughing fit. Finn patted his back, which didn't prove to be very helpful.

The smaller boy moved away from his brother, leaving his mug on his vanity before sitting on the chair by the window. "Wha-what?"

"You sound funny. Maybe you should breathe a little more before..."

"Finn Hudson, I'm sure you did not ask me what I think you've just asked me! So... please concentrate... and ask again. Choose your words carefully."

Finn's brows knitted together, and he just stood there for a long moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his mug forgotten in his right hand. Eventually, something seemed to light up in his expression. "Oh... Oh! You thought I was... I didn't mean..."

"Yes! I know!" Kurt snapped. "I figured as much. Now, focus and try again."

"If Blaine asked you out..."

"Finn!"

Finn grimaced. "Right. Not Blaine. If some boy... a hyperthetical boy... who's definitely not Blaine... asked you on a date at Color Me Mine. What would you think?"

"I'd think, 'What the hell am I going to wear?'"

"That's it?"

"What did you expect me to think?"

"Don't you think Color Me Mine is super lame?"

"I think it's lame that the boy asking me out is merely _hypo_thetical."

"Kurt, I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

Finn sat on the stool by the vanity, his back to the mirror. "Okay, never mind. I don't know why I thought talking to you would help."

Kurt bit down his lower lip. "Sorry. You caught me by surprise and I just... well..." He cleared his throat. "So. Color Me Mine."

"Yes."

"I admit that when I picture myself on a date, I think of more romantic venues. A quiet restaurant, a beautiful park in a sunny afternoon, a play or a good movie, maybe a dance performance... somewhere where we could hold hands and talk for hours."

"Like the ice rink?"

"Uh. Well. Yes, I suppose."

"So you agree with me. Color Me Mine is super lame."

"While I consider myself skilled in various crafts, somehow I've never been interested in either painting or pottery. So I can't really see myself going there just for the sake of it. Maybe, like, a day out with the girls... but I'd probably do my best to convince them to forget the pottery plates in favor of a nice white clay facial. As for a date... I'm serious, what the hell would I wear? I can't risk my good clothes on a place like that, but I can't wear my Hummel Tires and Lube overalls to a date either, can I?"

"Then that's definitely a no to a date at Color Me Mine, right?"

Kurt frowned. "I... I wouldn't say that."

"Why not? It seems to me like that was exactly what you were saying."

"I just think there're more important things than where the date is."

"For example?"

"Well, who is this boy?"

"I told you, it's hyper... hypo..."

"Yes, but do I like him? Is he gay? Is he out? Is he smart? Is he good-looking? Does he know the difference between silk and viscose?"

"Uh..."

"And as for the really important questions... Is he a good person? Does he honestly like me? Can I bring him home and introduce him to Dad without stressing his heart into another arrhythmia?"

Finn huffed. "I don't know. Let's say... he's sorta good-looking. Smart, but not school-smart. Smart in a dork-ish way. Totally clueless about fabrics and fashion, but... well, people think he's a nice guy. Burt would like him. I guess you did... I mean, I guess you would too."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Does he have bottle-blond hair and big, full lips?"

Finn recoiled, lowering his gaze to the mug resting on his right knee. "Uh, I don't know? Could be, if you like that sort of thing..."

"I'm not interested in Sam, Finn."

"I didn't say you are."

"So what's this all about?"

"Forget it."

But Kurt kept eyeing Finn the way a biologist would examine a cell nucleus in the microscope. "Did Sam ask Quinn on a date at...?"

"That subject is not allowed."

Kurt sighed. "Okay. But my point stands. I doubt I'd ever ask anyone on a date at Color Me Mine. And I doubt I'd be interested in going there for the sake of painting pottery. But if the invitation came from the boy of my dreams?" He shrugged. "I don't know. I can think of worse ideas for a date. Like a Taco Bell drive-thru."

"So, where do you and Blaine usually go to hang out?" Before Kurt could protest, he added, "I know you guys aren't dating, but... you like him, right? And that's kind of what I want to know. Cool places to go with someone you like."

"Well, you know, we go to the Lima Bean every day. Sometimes we lose track of time and just stay there, talking for hours."

"Right."

"We've gone to Breadstix a few times. We went to Columbus to see _Rent_. We go to the movies whenever there's anything worth watching in the theatres. Sometimes, when the Warblers' rehearsal stretches until late, we go the garden by the west wing of the school and watch the sunset. It's good, you know, to wind down. And we went to a flamenco performance a few weeks ago."

"And the ice rink this week."

"Yes. The ice rink." Kurt eyed his brother suspiciously. "Why are you smirking?"

"I'm not smirking."

"Yes, you are. What did I say that's so funny?"

"Nothing I'm allowed to talk about."

.

**5.**

"Kurt? I need your help."

"Does it have to be now? I'm kinda busy."

"You're texting."

"Yes, like I said, busy."

"Well, it's sort of... an emergency."

With a huff, Kurt finally looked up from his phone, setting his eyes on Finn for the first time since he stepped into the room. "Oh... my... Finn, what the hell happened?"

Embarrassed, Finn looked down at the floor. That made the top of his head visible to an increasingly horrified Kurt.

"Who did this to you?" Kurt jumped to his feet, hurrying towards his brother but hesitating to touch him. "Which of those pathetic Neanderthals...?"

"Uh, no. It was me. I did it to myself."

Kurt blinked. "You slushied yourself in four different colors?"

"It's not slushie. It's hair mousse. And hair gel. And lots of conditioner. And some sort of smoothing cream. And something called a hair mask. Which I don't get, because shouldn't masks go on one's face?"

Kurt seemed about to faint. "Finn... what have you...? Did you use every single product in the bathroom on your hair? At once?"

"Not every one! And not at once. I tried one, and when I didn't get the result I need, I tried another, and so on."

"Oh no."

"And I blow-dried my hair between each product, of course."

"Oh no, no, no."

"I also tried eggs."

"Eggs?"

"Yeah, I remembered you once said something about organic conditioners made of yolk, so... I couldn't figure out how to separate the yolk from the white, though, so I had to use them whole. Is that a problem?"

Kurt had his mouth covered with both hands now, and looked rather unsteady on his feet.

"Dude, are you okay? Maybe you should sit down. Or eat something. Or breathe. Are you breathing?"

Without a word, Kurt grasped his brother's hand and ran out of the room, down the hallway and into the bathroom, Finn stumbling after him. Then he spent a good minute just looking around, examining the floor, the sink, inside the shower box, and checking the vast assortment of bottles and jars of cosmetics.

"All clean," he murmured eventually. "All here."

"What, you thought I had used your stuff? Dude, I'm not crazy, you'd kill me."

"So... Carole's?"

"Yeah."

"In the master bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Will our parents have a fit when they see the state it's in now?"

Finn didn't answer.

"I'll get your hair back to normal," said Kurt. "But that's the only disaster zone I'm dealing with. With their bathroom, you're on your own."

"Actually... could you help me _change_ my hair? Like, could you give me bangs?"

"Bangs?"

"Yeah, like, coming from the back and the side, and then falling over my eyes... like this." Finn tried to use his fingers to mimic the effect he was describing.

"Oh god, is that what you were trying to do?"

"Yep. But I only get bangs when my hair is soaking wet, and when it's wet it just lies flat down, it doesn't flow when I..." Finn flipped his head curtly to the right. "That's why I put all those products, to get the bangs, and then I'd blow-dry it to try to make it, you know, move."

Kurt shook his head in dismay. "Okay. Okay. First things first. We need to wash it all off." He took a deep breath to focus his thought. "Okay. Take off your shirt, your shoes and socks. I'll be right back."

Finn rushed to obey, as Kurt left the bathroom. He kicked his shoes to a corner, then dropped his shirt and socks unceremoniously on top of them. Then, with a worried glance at the open door, he picked it all up, arranged the shoes neatly together by the wall, put one sock inside each shoe, folded the shirt as best as he could, and set it on the counter. Kurt was back the next moment, bringing towels, a small flower-patterned bag and a shower stool.

"Is that your Dad's...?" asked Finn, nodding at the teak seat.

"Yes."

"So you went into the master bathroom."

"Yes, and now I know exactly what 'walking on eggshells' feels like, thank you. So you'll be cleaning my slippers too." Kurt placed the stool inside the box, away from the shower head. "Sit."

Finn sat down, rubbing his arms self-consciously. Kurt covered his brother's shoulder with one of the towels, leaving the others on the counter. Realizing he was still carrying his phone, he left it there as well. Next, he joined Finn in the box, picked up the hose and turned the water on.

"Lean your head back," he instructed. "A little more."

Finn winced as he felt the water running down his scalp. "Could it be a little hotter?"

"No." Kurt touched Finn's hair gingerly, trying to remove some of the crusts of dried product without pulling at the strands. "This is disgusting."

"Is it coming off?"

"Some. This will take a while, a lot of patience, a lot of shampoo... and some luck wouldn't hurt either."

Kurt worked in silence for a few minutes, grimacing when his fingers got stuck in knots of dirty hair. Finn flinched in pain from time to time, but tried to bear it as stoically as he could. After a while, Kurt picked an orange bottle from the crammed shampoo shelf, poured a little of its clear liquid content directly on the top of Finn's head and started massaging his scalp gently.

"Here, hold this for me," asked Kurt, handing the bottle to Finn so he could have both hands working on his brother's hair.

Finn examined the bottle. "Is this, like, hair medicine? It looks like one of those prescription bottles, and your name is written on the label."

"It's shampoo. I got my dermatologist to prescribe me something when the gang slushie attacks became a daily thing at McKinley. My usual stuff just wasn't cutting it anymore. I hope it'll make a dent on this mess."

"It's not making much lather," said Finn worriedly.

"It's not supposed to."

"Is it working?"

Kurt didn't answer for a while, just glaring down at Finn's head.

"Kurt?"

"I... I think so. I told you to be patient."

Chastened, Finn chewed on his lower lip. "Sorry."

Kurt let out a long-suffering sigh. "Really, Finn, why didn't you come straight to me? You've been complaining about how lately there's little we can talk about. Surely you can talk to me about hairstyling!"

"Uh. Well. Actually... I wasn't supposed to... Hmm."

"Oh. I see. This is for glee club."

"...yeah. But that's all I'll say about it."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Was that Mr. Schuester's idea? Somehow I can't picture him as Bieber fanboy."

Finn snapped his head around to face Kurt. "Whoa, wait! Who said anything about Bieber?"

Kurt grabbed Finn's head and made him face front and down, so he could work on his nape. "You've just asked me to style your hair with bangs forming this very particular kind of side-sweep look. So you guys will either be singing a Bieber song, or doing a performance dressed up like Lego dolls. Do you want me to paint your face yellow too?"

"Uh, no..."

"Then Beiber it is." Kurt retrieved the bottle for a moment to pour more shampoo on his hand, and went back to massaging Finn's scalp.

"Kurt, you can't tell the Warblers about this."

Kurt snorted. "Please! Like I'd want to give them that idea."

"So you think Justin Bieber is lame too."

"Well, you'll find none of his idiotic tunes in my iPod, if that's what you're asking. Sure, they're very catchy, but so is the swine flu."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Finn. "Thank you!"

"On the other hand..."

"Wait, no. There's no other hand."

Kurt sighed. "Sorry. That was Blaine talking, I guess. He always seems to find some other hand."

"What other hand could there possibly be?"

"Well... He is ridiculously popular. His YouTube channel had a solid fanbase even before he was... insert air quotes here, my hands are busy... 'discovered'. The most viewed video in YouTube's history is that silly puppy love song of his whose chorus is a constant repetition of the word 'baby'. Oh, how eloquent and poetic," Kurt snickered. "And no one can deny he's a trendsetter. I mean, here you are, asking me for Bieber bangs. Even at Dalton there're three guys with Bieber hair. And one of them is the twenty-five-year-old gardener. Gross, really."

"The king of YouTube," Finn mused. "Wasn't that Lady Gaga? Well, the queen of YouTube, I mean."

"She's the queen of Twitter. And there's really no comparison. Gaga is revolutionary. Bieber is just... easy to digest."

"I don't get either of them," Finn admitted. "Give me Air Supply any day."

"Really, Finn, you should watch your consumption of sugar. Diabetes is no light matter."

Finn snorted. "Don't give me that. The other day I asked you what song of theirs you'd sing for a glee assignment, and you didn't even have to think about it. Don't pretend you don't know their stuff."

Kurt poured more shampoo on Finn's head, his massage becoming slightly more aggressive, encompassing every inch of his brother's scalp. "I'm not a music snob."

"Yes, you are. The Monkees?"

"Actors, not true musicians."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Regardless, I'm sure I know more music genres than you do," Kurt insisted. "You need to know the bad to recognize the good."

"Are you sure that's it? Because that sounds like an excuse. Like Puck listening to Barry Manilow and saying it's just because he's Jewish and he has to support his lineage or whatever."

"Mr. Bad-Ass Puckerman is way too focused on appearances."

"And you're not, Mr. I-Never-Wear-The-Same-Outfit-Twice-In-A-Month Hummel?"

"You're one to talk, Mr. I'm-The-Closest-Thing-This-School-Has-To-A-Celebrity Hudson." Kurt pulled Finn's head back once more, picked up the hose and rinsed the soapy hair with methodical care. "Yes, I know about that. People kept texting me, wondering if after you joined my family I started feeding you with a head-growing diet."

Finn looked up and stuck out his tongue at him.

Kurt bravely tried to respond with a glare, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by a sneaking fond smile. "Eyes ahead, you big toddler."

Finn complied. "It wasn't Mr. Schue, by the way."

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"Doing Bieber. It was Sam's idea."

"Oh."

"He said his songs sum up our generation."

"That's a terrifying thought." Kurt turned off the water, moved out of the shower box and picked a close-teeth comb from a drawer on the counter beside the sink. He was about to enter the cubicle again when he froze, eyes so big that they seemed about to pop out from their sockets. "Wait. Is that what you were talking about three days ago? Sam's idea for an anthem that you thought it was stupid?"

Finn grimaced, drying his forehead with the corner of the towel on his shoulders. "I'm not supposed to talk about that with you."

"An anthem by Bieber? Seriously?"

"I told you, I don't get it either. But it's like you said, he appeals to the masses, for whatever reason. Especially the female masses. So maybe there's something to it. I just want to give it a try."

Kurt started to say something, then closed his mouth and shook his head. He moved to stand behind Finn again, running the comb through the wet hair with utmost care. "It's none of my business anyway. I'm not 'butting in', as you say."

"Thanks."

"I just hope I never have to suffer through seeing you sing that awful baby-baby-baby nonsense. I don't know if I'd ever be able to respect you again."

Finn's lips contorted into an amused half-grin.

Kurt used the comb to locate and remove the rest of the solid clumps of residue, but that took time and several pulls to Finn's hair, no matter how gentle Kurt was. Finn, however, displayed the endurance of a martyr, and withstood the treatment in resigned silence.

Another handful of shampoo, another rinse, and Kurt turned off the water with a gesture of finality. "Okay. It's clean." He removed the wet towel from Finn's back and replaced it with a dry one, pressing it against Finn's scalp a few times. "Now let's see what can be done to give you Lego doll hair. Up!"

They moved the teak seat out of the box and placed it in front of the sink, and Finn sat back down, facing the mirror. Kurt touched the tips of his hair, examining them studiously.

"Do you know his secret?" asked Finn. "The secret to Bieber hair?"

"It's no secret. He actually posted a video demonstrating it."

"And you watched it?"

"For purely academic purposes," said Kurt defensively. "Anyway, that knowledge won't be very useful now. The simple fact is that your hair is just too short for the flipping-and-drying method. So what I'll do is just try to give you straight, smooth bangs, get you as close as possible to the real thing. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, dude."

Kurt selected a small tube from among the many bottles on the counter top and squeezed a pea-size drop of a light blue mousse on his index finger. He spread the substance to the rest of his fingers before massaging Finn's head with it.

"Smells like pine wood," Finn mused.

Kurt smiled. "You have a really good nose for trees." He cleaned his hands on a paper tissue, plugged in his hairdryer and picked a new comb from the drawer. He combed Finn's hair forward quickly while moving the hairdryer with practiced moves. "Tell me if it's too hot."

"It's fine."

On the counter beside the sink, Kurt's phone buzzed, and Finn automatically picked it up. "It's a text from Mercedes."

"Thanks, I'll read it later."

"Actually, you have, like, a ton of unread messages."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"It's okay, I'll read them for you."

"Put my phone down, Finn! You can't read my private conversations!"

"It's Mercedes! She's probably gossiping about glee club, which means it's something I already know about, so what's the harm?" Finn's fingers danced on the touchscreen.

"Finn!"

"First unread message. She says, _'I was your friend first, putting up with your crazy when you were still on the down low and Berry was the love of your life.'_" Finn frowned at Kurt's reflex on the mirror. "Wait, you used to have a thing for Rachel?"

Kurt sighed. "Let it go, Finn."

"But..."

"It was before I came out, okay? I was... looking at... a boy. In an appreciative way. And Mercedes caught me looking, but the boy moved just when she turned to see who I was looking at, and Rachel was there instead. And I wasn't ready to correct her assumption."

"Oh."

"Mercedes is just reminding me that our friendship goes way back."

"Right." Suddenly, Finn smirked. "Oh, man, it was me, right? She caught you staring at my ass or something."

Kurt stiffened for a moment, until he saw Finn's amused expression on the mirror. Then he rolled his eyes. "While I'm glad you can joke about this now, no, I was not staring at your ass."

"Someone else's ass, then? Or my something else?"

"I pledge the fifth."

Finn snickered and checked the phone again. "Next one is from Rachel."

"I'll check it _later_. Now put my phone down."

But Finn only shrugged. "Well, I need to know if it's about me." He opened the message.

"No, you don't! Finn!" Kurt moved to take the phone from Finn's grasp, but stopped when he realized both his hands were busy.

"Hmm, she says, _'I thought you'd relate to my deep anguish and sense of betrayal, given how very much alike we are in our drive, loneliness and strife for perfection.'_ Crap. This is about me, isn't it?"

"It's not."

"It's okay, I told you, you don't need to protect me from Rachel. Clearly, she's not over me, and she thought you could relate to that, except you did get over me now that you have Bla... ouch! You're pulling my hair, dude!"

"And you should thank me, because not only I'm giving you the ridiculous look you asked me for, but at the same time I'm keeping you from saying something that will make you sound even more ridiculous than your look."

But Finn ignored him and went for the next message. "Rachel again," said Finn.

"Oh god..."

"'_I don't remember anyone else from New Directions ever asking you to sing a duet with them. Including You-Know-Who,'_" Finn read.

"Low blow, Rachel," Kurt muttered.

Finn stared in confusion at his own reflection on the mirror. "Is she comparing me to Voldemort?"

"What? No..." Kurt raised the hairdryer, as if threatening to bash Finn's head in, letting out a growl that caused the tall jock to shudder. Then, with a deep breath, Kurt forced himself to relax and went back to working on the hairdo. "I told you, this has nothing to do with you."

"Then who? Sam? Is this about that duet assignment?"

"No."

"But then..." Finn opened another message. This time Kurt didn't even bother trying to stop Finn.

"It's Mercedes now. _'She wouldn't be your friend until you were gone and not fighting her for solos anymore. You know her priorities. What's yours?'_"

Kurt snorted. "Right now? Give my brother the most atrocious makeover ever." He turned off the hairdryer and put it away, unplugging it from the power outlet. Next, he opened the bag he had brought earlier and took out the gadget stored inside, which was covered with the same flower pattern as the bag.

"What's that?" asked Finn.

"Carole's hair straightener. I don't have one, and your hair needs to be silk-like smooth for this to work."

"But you know how to use it?"

"I have a lot of practice playing with Mercedes's hair, don't worry." Kurt plugged in the straightener and left it on the counter while it heated up. Meanwhile, he picked up a round spray bottle and sprayed Finn's hair a few times, making sure to shield Finn's brow so the product wouldn't get into his eyes.

Finn turned his attention back to Kurt's phone. "The next one is Rachel. _'I can only assume your inex... plic... inexplicable ret... reticence... is a sign of your... resentment... over your... humiliating defeat in our own diva-off.'_ Man, the words are getting bigger, that means she's about to blow up. You know, volcano-like."

"I'm not afraid of big words," said Kurt dryly.

Finn smiled. "Yeah, I guess you're not." He moved to the next message. "Still Rachel: _'I thought you were better than that.'_"

"Oh, but I am," Kurt muttered. "If you only knew..." He grabbed the straightener and the comb and, alternating swiftly between one tool and the other, he combed lock after lock of Finn's hair towards his forehead.

Finn opened another message. "'_I've never been so disappointed in you_,' says Mercedes. And... huh. Rachel says exactly the same thing."

"Well, that just makes it quite even, as I'm disappointed in both of them myself."

"Dude, what _is_ going on?"

"The truce is over. Mercedes and Rachel are back to despising each other."

"What? Why?"

"Good question. Mercedes said that Rachel said that Mercedes is not talented. And Rachel said that Mercedes said that Rachel is not talented. Neither confirms having said anything about the other before, but now they're both very eager to corroborate the assertion they deny having made."

"Uh..."

"They're fighting over which of them is more talented," Kurt abridged.

"Ah."

"And they both want me to pick a side."

"Like, to be the referee?"

"Oh, no. They don't care about my opinion that much. They're each entirely sure they're much better than the other, so they don't actually need a referee. They just want me to back up what they're convinced to be true."

"That sucks."

"Indeed."

"Which side would you pick?"

"None. They're both my friends."

"But if it weren't for that. Just on talent alone. Who would you pick?"

"Well, me, obviously," said Kurt with a snort.

Finn chucked. "I don't know why I asked." He rested his elbows on the sink to bring the phone closer to his face. "More Rachel. _'Thanks to the appalling attitude you and Mercedes are now displaying, I have no choice but to dissolve the DDTTCC club.'_ Whoa, can she do that? Was she like the president or something?"

"No, but... let's just say her issues tended to dominate the club's discussions."

"How?

"...never mind."

"Mercedes: _'Rachel texted me to say DDTTCC is over. Whatever, it should be spelled FFTTKRFFF anyway. Foolish Friends Trying To Keep Rachel From Flirting with Finn.'_" Finn blushed. "Oh."

"Don't let it go to your head," Kurt cautioned his brother. "If it gets too big, your hair won't be long enough to cover it."

"_'I'm sorry you've been caught in the crossfire. That's not really fair to you,'_" Finn read.

Kurt blinked. "Wow. That's surprisingly thoughtful. Which of them sent it?"

"Uh, actually, that's from Blaine."

"Finn, no!" Kurt pointed the straightener menacingly at Finn's reflex. "Now you're really crossing a line. My communications with Blaine are _private_!"

"Crossfire," Finn murmured. "Have you two gone to a paintball field?"

"Are you listening to me? Let go of my phone. Now."

"Wait, Blaine's texted again."

"I said..."

"_'I'd much rather hear a Rachel/Mercedes duet than a diva-off. If they're as good as you say, they'd bring the house down.' _Wait, how is _Blaine _involved in the Rachel versus Mercedes thing?"

"He's not. I was just texting him about it before you asked for my help. Those two are driving me nuts, and I needed someone to talk to."

"And you chose Blaine?"

"Why not?"

"Why not me?"

"Because I can't trust you to be impartial. It's not like Blaine has ever dated either of them."

Finn snorted. "Well. It's not like he's telling you anything helpful, is it?"

Kurt frowned in thought. "Actually..."

"What?"

Kurt huffed and went back to straightening Finn's hair. "Well, since you're determined to butt in... Start a message to Mercedes. I'm going to dictate it for you."

"Okay."

"No netspeak. Full words, correctly spelled, or they'll think someone stole my phone." Kurt sighed. "Which isn't that far from the truth."

"Fine, but small words, okay? Shoot."

"'Of course I'm on your side, girlfriend,'" Kurt dictated. "'Rachel doesn't stand a chance against your soulful voice.'"

Finn frowned even as he typed. "You really think so?"

"Now, message to Rachel. 'You're right, I sympathize...' That's S-Y-M-P-A-T-H-I-Z-E... 'I sympathize with your pain and struggle. But I know you will prove yourself supreme in the diva-off.'"

"Whoa. You're two-timing your friends?"

"I'm trying to get them back to being _each other's _friends."

"By getting them both to hate you when they find out you're two-timing them?"

"They won't hate me. They'll thank me. You'll see."

"I don't know..." The phone buzzed, and Finn opened the message. "From Mercedes. '_Glad you recovered your senses, boo._'" Another buzz. "And Rachel says, '_It's a relief to know you're not so resentful as to deny the truth. Always a pleasure to have you as my ally against the med... mediocrity._'"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "To Mercedes: 'Have you ladies already picked the combat song?'" When Finn finished typing, he added, "To Rachel, same question."

A minute later, the phone buzzed again.

"Rachel says she wants to do Barbra's _Stoney End_." Another buzz. "And Mercedes is picking Jennifer Hudson's new song, _Where You At_. Don't they have to sing the same song? I mean, when you and Rachel had your diva-off..."

"Write to Rachel: 'You can't have a proper diva-off without a song from the Broadway catalogue.' That's C-A-T..."

"Dude, I can spell 'catalogue'."

The phone remained silent for a long while. Kurt unplugged the straightener and put it back on the counter to cool while he used comb and fingers to tame Finn's most rebellious locks.

Finally, the sound of a new incoming message. "It's Mercedes," said Finn. "'_Rachel's just sent me 6 texts to explain why the diva-off absolutely needs to be some Broadway shit. Is she tripping?_'"

Kurt grinned. "Reply: 'She's so afraid of you that she wants the advantage of genre. Seize this opportunity to beat her on her own turf."

Finn typed as instructed, the look on his face growing more confused by the second. "So, you're rigging the game in Rachel's favor? How is that going to help matters?"

"Trust me."

The next message didn't take long to come. "Mercedes asks, '_So what do you suggest? Something from _Dreamgirls_? How about _One Night Only_? 'Cause I'm not doing a Streisand musical, hell to the no._'"

"To Mercedes: 'Tell her you'd like to do something from _Rent_. And tell her you're willing to let her choose the song. Whatever she chooses, you can do better.'"

"Oh. So you're rigging the game in Mercedes' favor, then," said Finn.

"Finn Hudson, you're so far way from figuring out my brilliance."

Another buzz. "Okay, this is Rachel telling you that Mercedes is letting her choose something from _Rent_. With a lot more words than necessary, but... that's the gist. Oh, and she's considering _Out Tonight_."

"Right. Tell her that's too obvious. Tell her that she should pick _Take Me or Leave Me_ because Mercedes would never see that coming."

Finn typed as instructed. The reply came fast. "Rachel says she's appalled to have to remind you that that song is a duet."

"I _know_ that," Kurt growled. "Write to her, 'That's the point. What better way to prove your superiority than by showing everyone that you can be both Maureen and Joanne?'"

"Who are Maureen and Joanne?" asked Finn as he finished typing.

"A couple of lesbians who adore each other but can't stop fighting over their jealousy and insecurities."

Finn arched an eyebrow. "I'm kinda afraid to ask why you're choosing that song now." Two buzzes sounded in quick succession. "Rachel says you're a genius. And Mercedes says, '_Rachel picked _Take Me or Leave Me_, to be sung as a solo. What do you think?'_"

Kurt grinned smugly. "To Rachel: 'Obviously.' To Mercedes: 'Perfect. Let Rachel go first, then jump in mid-song and teach her how it's done.' And Finn, please, please, please don't mix the messages up," he added worriedly.

"Chill, man, I'm not that stupid." Finn pressed 'send' after typing the second message and sighed. "Okay, done. But I really don't see the point of all of this. You tell Rachel to turn a duet into a solo, but then tell Mercedes to interrupt Rachel's solo, so in the end it'll just be a duet again, won't it?" Finn gazed up at Kurt's reflex with a suspicious look. "This is what Blaine was talking about."

Kurt's smile turned a little dreamy. "He gave me the idea, yes."

"I don't know, dude, I can imagine a dozen ways this could go very, very wrong. Rachel really doesn't like being interrupted when she's singing. Or talking. Or doing anything else." Another buzz. "But Mercedes is calling you a genius too."

"And tomorrow _you_ will be telling me the same," said Kurt with conviction. He put the comb down, removed the towel and patted Finn's shoulders. "I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

Finn looked into the mirror, and smile. "This is great." He flipped his head to the right, and the pitifully short bangs moved a few millimeters with the jolt. "Awesome!"

Kurt sighed. "Well. As long as you're happy."

"Will it stay like this until tomorrow?"

"Don't let it get wet, and the straightening should last for a couple of days," said Kurt dryly. "Tomorrow morning I'll do some touch-ups."

"But you go to school super early."

"Which means we're both waking up even earlier to get it done. Unless you've changed your mind."

Finn sighed. "No, no. I need to do this."

"Really? You _need_ to? Why?"

"I'm just trying to prove that I'm an artist."

"By copying Justin Bieber's hair?"

"What were you doing last year, with the whole theatricality thing and the Lady Gaga outfit?"

"You can't possibly compare..."

They heard the front door open and Carole's tired but cheerful voice call them from downstairs. "Finn? Kurt? I'm home!"

"Oh crap!" Finn exclaimed. "I didn't have time to clean the master bathroom!"

"Good luck," Kurt snorted as Finn ran towards their parents' suite.

He saw that Finn had left the phone beside the sink, and picked it up. After a moment of consideration, he typed a new text to Blaine. _Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber. Who is the artist?_

Kurt pressed 'send', then frowned. Quickly, he typed another message:_ And don't say Katy Perry._

The answer came about a minute later. _The one who resonates with you._

.

**6.**

"Oh my god, you really are a genius!"

"Well, hello to you too, Finn Hudson." Kurt turned off the engine and got out of the Navigator, failing to dodge Finn's enthusiastic pats on his shoulders. "What's got you so excited?"

"It worked! It totally worked! Man, I swear I'll never doubt you again."

"The Bieber hair? What happened? Did all the girls at school swoon at your feet when you flipped your bangs?"

Finn's joy seemed to fade a little. "Uh, no. Not really." But then his smile grew big again. "I'm talking about your plan to get Rachel and Mercedes to make peace. Dude, it went without a hitch!"

"Oh. That." Kurt made his way into the house, Finn trailing close behind him. "So how was their performance?"

"They were amazing. Their voices sounded great together, and there was so much fire, you know?" Finn chuckled. "Also, I don't know if it was the lesbian thing, but they looked so damn hot!"

Kurt rolled his eyes as he put down his messenger bag and undressed his coat and wool scarf. "You just can't help being a boy, can you?"

"Hey, you chose the song," countered Finn defensively. "Seriously, it worked just like you planned. They were sniping at each other at first, then Rachel started the song, and it was so... it had _poison_, you know? And then Mercedes cut in, just like you told her to, and their eyes were shooting death rays at each other, but man, they sounded so _good_! We were clapping and dancing in our chairs, it was so freaking awesome, and when they got to the end, _they_ knew it was awesome, how great they sounded together. And they hugged and laughed, and each one wanted the other to be named the winner. It couldn't have gone down more perfectly."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Kurt flatly.

"You don't sound glad," Finn pointed out. "And you don't look glad."

"I'm glad on the inside. And I'm thirsty. You want something?" Kurt went to the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

Finn followed him. "Warm milk?"

"Isn't it too early for that?"

"I think I want you to tell me what's wrong now, not later."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Did Blaine...?"

"It has nothing to do with Blaine."

"Ah, but there's something."

"Finn..."

"Come on. Sit down, I'll heat up the milk and you spit it out. Uh, I mean, spit out what's troubling you. Not the milk. That would be gross."

"I thought we had a no-butting-in agreement?"

"That's for unwanted opinions," said Finn, taking their usual mugs from the cupboard. "I can't let you come home upset without asking you what happened, it's not... brotherlike. And you'd do the same for me."

Kurt sighed tiredly and shuffled to the round table next to the kitchen, allowing himself to slide down onto a chair. "Fine. I was with Blaine at the Lima Bean..."

"So it is Blaine!"

"...when they called me. Mercedes and Rachel. Together, in a party line call. They told me about the results of the diva-off and that they were friends again."

"Right," said Finn, taking out the milk from the fridge. "I should've known they'd get to you and tell you all about it before I did."

"They also told me about the conversation they had _after_ the diva-off. Which, along with apologies and vows of eternal friendship, included a discussion of my participation in the whole mess."

Finn paused, his expression turning into dismay. "Uh-oh."

"Apparently, Rachel said something along the lines of 'I hope you're not too upset that Kurt picked me over you'..."

"Oh, crap."

"...and then Mercedes got her cell out and showed Rachel her texts history..."

"Crap, crap, crap."

"...and then Rachel did the same."

"Fuck!"

"So, you were right. They figured out my little intervention, and now they're both mad at me."

"Do they know I did the typing? Man, I really don't want those two coming after me."

Kurt sent him a weak glare. "That's your concern? Don't worry, I told them I acted alone. I even stayed silent when Rachel mocked me for misspelling Maureen's name."

Finn rolled his eyes, spilling a few drops as he poured the milk into the mugs. "Oh, come on, there isn't one right way to spell people's names. I mean, there are a lot of Curts with a C out there."

"I'm not one of them, am I?" Kurt huffed. "Whatever. You're safe. I'm the only one they hate. I believe it's your turn to tell me, 'I told you so'."

"I doubt they hate you," countered Finn, placing the mugs in the microwave and setting the timer. "They'll just give you the cold shoulder for a few days, then they'll calm down and think it over, and they'll realize you only had good intentions."

"Just paving my road to hell," Kurt grumbled. "Although I'm told being gay is enough to put me there."

"They shouldn't have dragged you into their fight in the first place, that's what I think."

"I honestly don't know what I could have done. I tried to remain neutral, and they both accused me of betrayal. I suppose I could have flipped a coin and sided with one of them, so at least I'd have kept one friendship, but I'd have missed the other, and if they made peace later, things would be awkward for all three of us anyway. I just wanted them to be friends again."

The microwave beeped, and Finn took their mugs out, setting Kurt's by his hand before sitting down across the table. "I still think you're a genius. Like I said, I doubt it'll take them long to forgive you. Heck, they might even have another fight to see who gets to forgive you first."

Kurt moaned. "This almost makes me miss the days when I had no friends."

"Really?"

"No."

Finn smiled. "It'll be okay, you'll see."

Kurt checked the temperature of his milk and took a sip. "Blaine said the same thing," he murmured.

Finn opened his mouth to say something, but just drank from his mug instead.

"You haven't told me about your Bieber experiment yet," said Kurt, pointing at Finn's bangs, now seriously disheveled.

"Uh..."

"I know you can't tell me about what New Directions is doing. I was just curious to know if the makeover has helped you achieve whatever goals you were pursuing with it."

"Not yet," Finn admitted. "But I feel it's a work in progress."

"I see."

"You think you could help me do my hair tomorrow morning again?"

Kurt smiled. "Sure."

.

**7.**

"You're home early. Did something happen?"

"Skipped coffee with Blaine and came home straight from school."

"Did you two...?"

"No, Finn, we didn't have a fight. I was just eager to bring that little fellow home," said Kurt, pointing towards the corner beside his vanity.

Finn stepped farther into the bedroom to see what his brother was pointing at. "Hey, it's Pav!" he beamed.

Kurt snorted. "Right. _Pav_."

"Did you steal him from Dalton?"

"Of course not. I was asked to bring him home and take care of him here."

"He's not sick again, is he?"

"Not sick, but... he's not thriving there for some reason. I think the cold really upsets him. I'm thinking of sewing him a new birdcage cover. Something to keep him better protected. And more stylish."

Finn leaned down in front of the cage, and waved his fingers at the canary. "Hi, little guy," he said softly. "Welcome back."

Pavarotti chirped, shifting on his perch.

Finn took the seat at the vanity, facing the bed, where Kurt sat cross-legged, his laptop open on his lap. "So, is he staying for good this time?"

"I doubt it," Kurt sighed sadly. "He still belongs to Dalton, after all. And his care is traditionally the task of the newest Warbler, so I don't know what'll happen next year, when we'll probably get new members. That said, the council admitted he was doing a lot better here than at school, so..." He shrugged. "For the moment, he stays here."

"Well, that's better than nothing, I suppose. I kinda missed hearing him sing in the morning."

Kurt smiled weakly for a second, but the next moment a scowl took over his face as he glared down at his laptop.

"Something wrong?" asked Finn.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt huffed. "Just the world coming to an end."

"You're reading about global warming?"

"No. I'm reading about Brittany S. Pierce aka 'the trendiest girl in America', according to The Sartorialist."

"The... who?"

"Scott Schuman. A fashion blogger I _used_ to respect."

"I didn't think there was anyone in Lima you respected when it comes to fashion."

"There isn't. He lives in New York."

"Then how does he know Brittany?"

"I have no idea. More puzzling yet: what the hell is she wearing?"

Finn joined him on the bed, so he could look at the screen as well. "I think it's cute."

"That's not Brit's style."

"I don't know. Today, I could swear every girl in school was dressed like that. Except Mercedes."

"Mercedes knows better than to copy other people." Kurt squinted and tilted his head to the side, as if by looking at it from another angle the image would suddenly make more sense. "I dare say... there's something almost... Rachel Berry-ish in that ensemble."

"Why would everybody start dressing like Rachel?"

"No reason I can think of. But I can see why people would want to dress like Brittany."

"But you just said Brittany is kinda dressed like Rachel."

"Yes, 'kinda' being the ungrammatical operative word. Rachel has no clue how to pick colors to suit her complexion. And while Rachel's animal sweaters always make me think of undesirable Christmas presents from unimaginative relatives, there's something whimsical about carousel horses that gives this sweater a different vibe," said Kurt, tapping the screen with his fingernail. "More to the point... fashion is not just about the clothes. It's about who you are and how you wear them. And how you carry yourself. Rachel is very talented. But when she walks into a room, people don't want to _be_ like her."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, there're quite a number of celebrities who are crazy, annoying and self-absorbed but also trendsetters, so that's not it. I guess it's because, at this point in life, Rachel is someone with a lot of dreams that she has yet to accomplish, while Brittany seems to already have what most kids want: she's popular, beautiful, athletic, she can get whatever guy or girl she wants, she's comfortable in her own skin... She might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier or have the best grades, but then again intelligence and academic achievement are usually not what make teenagers envious, are they?"

"But one day Rachel will be a star. And then everyone will want to be like her."

Kurt closed his laptop and set it aside. "Hopefully, she'll have learnt how to dress herself sensibly by then."

Finn slumped against the headboard. "You know, I just don't get this whole thing. Fashion and trends and stuff."

"Clearly," said Kurt dryly, eyeing Finn's bangs judgmentally.

"No, I mean... I was really trying to understand, but... Look. There's Bieber, right? He started this whole thing. The original artist."

"Both attributes are debatable," Kurt countered. "But I'll play along. Bieber is the original artist."

"Then Sam shows up in glee club with Bieber's hair, singing a Bieber song, and dancing like him too. And the girls love it and say Sam's an artist because he was shameless."

"I see."

"Then Artie, Mike and Puck join him to form a boy band of Bieber-clones, and that's apparently super hot, all the girls going crazy, with all the hysterical fangirl screeching and swooning."

"Wow."

"But then I go to school with the Bieber look, and I try to sing one of his songs, and they just mock me. Tina called me a copycat."

"What about Quinn?"

"What about her?" asked Finn defensively.

"Just wondering if she had any opinion about this."

"You're butting in again."

"Seriously? I can't even mention Quinn's name now?"

"I don't know. How's Blaine doing?" Finn retorted in a challenging tone.

"He's doing just fine," replied Kurt, refusing to back down. "And as a matter of fact, he said something the other day about artistry. About how artistry is about expressing yourself, even through someone else's song. Making that material yours. You don't like Justin Bieber, Finn. He means nothing to you. His work says nothing to you. I don't know about Sam and the others, I didn't see them perform, I can't judge. But even while you were asking me to give you a Bieber hairdo, you were telling me you don't get what he's about at all. You really were just copying what you saw... and I don't mean Bieber. You were copying _Sam_. Because the Bieber thing went well for him, got the girls fawning over him, probably got Quinn paying more attention to him than to you, so... monkey see, monkey do, right?"

Finn looked livid as he glared at his brother. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Finn..."

"Thank you for sharing your damn opinions about me and my life, but like I said before... I'm. _Not._ Interested." Finn got on his feet and marched towards the door.

"Finn, I'm sorry. Finn!"

But the only reply Kurt received was the sound of Finn's own bedroom door being kicked shut.

Pavarotti peeped out a tiny, consternated note.

"Damn," Kurt muttered.

.

**8.**

"No. No, no, no. What the hell are you thinking?"

Sitting at his desk, Finn looked up from his laptop to the closed door, which was proving itself incapable of isolating him from Kurt's angry chattering across the hall.

"Maybe if... Oh, god, no. Absolutely not. What about... Ugh, that's even worse. And now, that's just pathetic!"

Finn went back to browsing through Facebook, screwing up his face in concentration.

"What _is_ it with you?" Kurt's voice sounded close to hysterics. "You know better than _that_!"

Finn stuck his fingers into his ears, gritting his teeth as he glared at the screen.

"This is a _disaster_! Kurt yelled. "It's karma coming back to bite you!"

Eventually, Finn gave up and closed his laptop, making his way to his brother's room, whose door was wide open. He found Kurt standing at the foot of the bed, his hands covering his face.

"Why oh why did you have to open your huge, stupid mouth?" Kurt whimpered.

"I thought you were on the phone," said Finn, glancing around. There were several clothes and accessories spread out carefully on the bed, and several pairs of shoes aligned on the floor, but Kurt's cell phone was nowhere to be seen. "Who are you so mad at? Pav? What did he do? Sang off-key or something?"

Kurt blinked at Finn for a moment, looking confused and dejected. "What? No, Pavarotti didn't do anything. I'm just..." He shook his head, trying to regain some composure. "Never mind. Sorry for disturbing you. I'll keep quiet."

Finn frowned for a minute, looking between Kurt and the bed, then his whole expression changed. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh, what?"

"You were yelling at yourself. Because you have somewhere to go and don't know what to wear."

Kurt clasped his hands in front of his body, entwining his fingers in a nervous gesture. "Uh, well... Yes," he admitted sheepishly.

Finn beamed, proud of his successful conjecture. "Can I help?"

Kurt arched an eyebrow, staring up and down at Finn's dark jeans, red checkered shirt and red beanie.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Right. What was I thinking?"

"No, no..." Kurt sighed. "Actually... You might even be on the right track here. Or at least much closer than I am." He pointed dispiritedly at the many discarded outfits layered on the bed.

"Well, what's the occasion?"

Kurt cringed. "Please don't laugh."

"What?"

"Blaine and I are going to Color Me Mine tomorrow."

Finn did not laugh. Instead, he gaped at his brother in shock. "Wait, say that again?"

"Blaine. Me. Color Me Mine. Tomorrow. And before you ask, no, it's not a date. I inadvertently gave him the idea when I mentioned the place."

"Dude, you've been telling Blaine about all the stuff I tell you?" asked Finn indignantly. "That's private!"

"No... That's not how it happened, I didn't mention you at all."

"Then how...?"

"I was teasing him. He was talking excitedly about having geography with Mr. Crenshaw today, and, well, I have Mr. Crenshaw on Mondays, and his deep, drawling voice is the most efficient sedative ever invented, I swear. Which is so unfair, because his quizzes are a lot more complex than the usual 'What are the five largest states in U.S.?' that I'd get at McKinley. But Blaine, Nick and Jeff have found a way to stay awake in his class. They have an ongoing non-yawning championship."

Finn found a small spot on the bed that wasn't covered with clothes, and sat down gingerly. "A non-yawning... How does that work?"

"They sit side by side and keep tabs on one another. When one of them yawns, he gets a point. The one with the fewest points by the end of semester wins."

"Does that help to pay attention to class?"

"I doubt it. Anyway, Blaine was in last place. But Nick and Jeff were at a party last night that went past 2:00 AM, so Blaine doubled his usual caffeine intake and was practically bouncing off the walls, confident that he'd be able to turn the tables on both of them today and take the lead."

"Huh. That guy is weird."

"Yes," Kurt agreed, but with a little fond smile in his face. "He was being ridiculous, really. And I told him so. I teased him for the way he finds amusement in the oddest things. He shrugged and said, 'Well, that's the art of having fun!' And I asked, 'Isn't that the slogan for Color Me Mine?' And then his whole face just lit up like I had said the most stupendous thing, and he literally started jumping up and down, saying that we simply _must_ go and paint some teacups at Color Me Mine."

"Ah."

"So here I am, just as I predicted, not having a clue about what to wear at a place like that."

"You could have said no."

Kurt sent him a weird look, as if the idea had never crossed his mind until that second. "Well. I guess. I could have." He shrugged, looking at everywhere but Finn. "I suppose I got sucked in by his enthusiasm."

"And I don't really see the problem here," Finn continued, gesturing at the surrounding clothes and shoes. "It's just Blaine, right? It's not a date. So who cares if you're not in your best clothes? You can wear your Hummel Tires and Lube overalls, he won't mind."

"I'd mind!" Kurt yelled, scandalized. "I don't want Blaine to see me in greasy, paint-covered overalls!"

"But if it's not a date..."

"I still want to impress him, okay?" Kurt snapped.

Finn said nothing, just gazed at him with a measuring look.

"I know, I know. He's already told me he's not interested," said Kurt defensively. "And if we never become more than friends, I'm okay with that. Truly."

Finn remained silent.

"I'm not actively pursuing him or anything like that, okay?" Kurt insisted. "He's the one inviting me to go to all those places and hang out. And I'm not going to do anything stupid this time. I'm just trying to improve the chances that he'll... notice me, you know?"

"I think you should wear your old football jersey."

"Wha-what?"

"Yeah! I'm guessing you won't care much if you get paint on it. And Blaine likes football, right? So he sees you in the jersey, gets curious, asks you about it, and you get to tell him about the time you played for the Titans."

"Why..."

"I think he'll be super impressed by that. Especially because you were not like any other player. You did your own thing, even though I told you not to, even though the other guys laughed at you at first. _You _were definitely shameless. That's artistry, right? And in the end, everyone in the team ended up copying you."

Kurt stared at Finn with big, surprised eyes, his mouth hanging open and speechless.

Finn's lopsided smile was warm, friendly, and just a tiny bit on the impish side.

After a long moment, Kurt nodded. "Thank you," he murmured sincerely.

Finn nodded back, and got up to go back to his own room.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't mind my asking... why are you dressed like Paul Bunyan?"

"I can't tell you."

Kurt nodded understandingly. "Right. New Directions' secret. I get it. I won't ask again."

"Well, that too. But really..." Finn removed his red beanie, eyeing it with bemusement. "I have no idea why I'm dressed like this either."

.

**9**.

"Did you make us new mugs?"

"Why? You don't like our mugs?"

"I do. That's why I'm not sure I want them replaced by something painted by your weird friend Blaine."

Kurt smiled. "Well, don't worry then. I chose a photo frame. There's this picture of the four of us at our parents' wedding I've been meaning to put on my shelf, but I didn't have a proper frame for it. Now I do! Painted in russet and cognac, just like the wedding theme."

"Cool!" Finn sat down beside Kurt on the couch in the living room, both boys holding their old familiar mugs with warm milk. "What did Blaine paint?"

"A dragon figurine. He was leaning towards a piggy bank at first, but when he spotted the dragon, he wanted nothing else."

"Okay. Maybe he's not so weird, then."

Kurt arched an eyebrow at his brother, and let out a little exasperated sigh. "Boys," he muttered under his breath.

"What about the jersey? Did it work? Was he impressed?"

"He was, actually. Although he seemed stuck on the point of whether the _Single Ladies_ play should be legal or not."

Finn shrugged. "It worked."

"That's what I told him." Kurt sipped his milk and licked his lips. He watched Finn out of the corner of his eye. "Sam and Quinn weren't there, if you were wondering," he said cautiously.

"I know. They broke up."

"They did?" Kurt gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah. It was a little obvious by the way Santana sat on Sam's lap the whole time during rehearsal today."

Kurt looked utterly astonished. He picked up his cell phone, checked for missed messages, and shook his head in dismay. "Nothing. A break-up and a new couple all in one day, and nobody called me to spread the gossip." He put the phone down dramatically. "Mercedes and Rachel I understand, they're still mad at me. But what about Tina? And Artie hasn't called me either, although, granted, his gossip is usually not the relationship-y kind..."

"Well, Mercedes told everyone about your texts, so..."

"Great. So everybody hates me now."

"Nah! Puck thought your plan was brilliant. Except for the part where you got caught."

"I see. Unfortunately, the only gossip Puck has ever told me was that Quinn was expecting your child, which turned out to be untrue. Also, he told that to the room at large, and I just happened to be there."

Finn rolled his eyes. "So what? You still have me."

"Are you going to keep me posted on all the juicy secrets in New Directions?" Kurt asked with a grin.

"As long as they're not about Regionals..."

"Thanks, Finn."

"Well, we needed something to talk about anyway."

They stayed in companionable silence for a moment, drinking from their mugs.

"Finn?" Kurt's tone was hesitant.

"Hmmm?"

"Should I... congratulate you?"

"No."

"I thought you wanted them to break up, so you could be with Quinn."

"She picked him."

"What do you mean?"

"Between Sam and me. She picked Sam."

"But..."

"He found out that the gumball story was bogus. Probably from Santana. The only reason Quinn wasn't painting matching platters with him tonight is because _he_ dumped _her_."

"Oh."

Finn slumped on the couch. "The fireworks... I was serious, okay? What I feel for Quinn... it's real. I never forgot her. Even when I was with Rachel... Sometimes I'd just look at Quinn standing across the choir room or passing by me in the hallways... and it was like I had stuck my fingers in an outlet, you know?"

"A sensation you know empirically, I presume?"

"What?"

"Never mind. So you're saying you have real feelings for Quinn. This isn't about getting the upper hand on Sam."

Finn stared down at his mug, a little scowl darkening his face. "Let's say it's not... _just_ that."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Meaning it's partially that?"

"I don't know," Finn huffed. "I didn't think it was. But the things you've said... I can't say you were entirely wrong."

Kurt sipped his milk, choosing not to say anything to that.

"I guess that makes me twice a loser, huh?" Finn snorted. "I didn't get the upper hand... and now, even if I get together with Quinn, I'll know I was her second choice."

"Is that really so important?"

"Shouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Kurt grimaced. "I've never been anyone's first choice, or second, or third... or nth, for that matter. So there's no reason why my opinion on this is remotely relevant." He turned his face to smile at his brother. "Besides, I was supposed to keep my opinions to myself, right?"

"Yeah, about that." Finn sighed. "Let's forget about it, okay?"

Kurt blinked. "Really?"

Finn nodded, slumping even more on the seat and crossing his outstretched legs at the ankles. "Yeah. I'm starting to think that this brother business doesn't really work without the butting-into-each-other's-lives thing. I mean, how am I supposed to have your back if I don't know what's going on with you?"

"How about you simply trust that I'll ask for your help when I need it?"

"I think the only time you've ever asked for my help was when you decided to get on the football team."

"I..."

"And what about last night? I guess it never occurred to you that I could be helpful choosing clothes."

Kurt smirked. "All right, I'll admit that was something I'd never in a million years imagine could happen."

"So, really, the only sure way we'll know if I can help you is if I..."

"Butt into my life?"

"Try to keep myself informed," corrected Finn cautiously.

"This sounds like an excuse to make a habit of going through my phone and reading my texts."

"It's not!"

"I'd better not be. Otherwise, Mercedes and Rachel might somehow learn about your little participation in my scheme to reunite them."

"Okay, okay, no need to blackmail me! But you'll have to promise not to snoop when I'm on the phone, too. Even if I'm just leaving a message on someone's voicemail."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Fine, deal."

"I just think... maybe we need each other more than we'd like to admit. But for that, you gotta _let me_ be there for you. And I gotta let you be there for me too. So... you should go back to spitting out your opinions about anything and everything."

"Are you _really_ sure about that?"

Finn hesitated for only a second. "Yeah. I don't always like your advice. Or maybe almost never. But I guess you're right more often than you're wrong, so... yeah."

"I suppose I could try being more tactful about it," Kurt pondered. "Less vitriolic and contumelious. More diplomatic and less vituperative."

"You could also try using shorter words," Finn suggested wryly.

"Well, since you mentioned it... Are you finally ready to ask me?"

"About what?"

"Carole has been hinting strongly this entire week about one of her sons needing help with his studies. And while I admit to having some trouble with geometry, somehow I don't think she means me."

Finn groaned. "Man, I told her not to talk to you about that!"

"Yes, well, we might still be learning how to be brothers, but our parents have been parents for seventeen years. If butting in is a fundamental part of being a family, then that's an art they've already mastered."

"I guess," Finn sighed. "Anyway, I don't need that much help. Just with chemistry and biology. And geography. And algebra. And English lit."

"You might want to ask someone else to help you with algebra," said Kurt, twitching his lips. "But we can plan some study sessions for all the rest."

"Thanks, bro."

Another comfortable silence followed, and they calmly drank the rest of their milk. They stayed there then, holding their empty mugs, unwilling to break the moment.

After a while, Finn started humming a tune distractedly.

Kurt's brows frowned lightly. "I know that one. Carole was singing it in the kitchen the other day, wasn't she? Air Supply?"

Finn nodded and jumped to the second verse.

.

"_Acting as cold as ice  
>When we want to be;<br>Just a foolish game we play.  
>You couldn't hurt me bad enough<br>To make me give it up  
>And walk away.<em>"

.

Kurt laughed at the appropriateness of the lyrics, and joined in at the chorus, singing in harmony with Finn.

.

"_We can't stop;  
>The feeling's too strong.<br>We've got the will to hang on.  
>Can't stop;<br>We struggle and fight to survive  
>Just keeping the love alive.<em>"

**###**

**A/N 2:** I'm blaming Cory Monteith himself for the idea of making Finn an Air Supply fan. ^_^ (BuddyTV interview with Cory Monteith and Chris Colfer from 2009 –YouTube: watch?v=52tNrJCP43E )


End file.
